#the man was a whiz in the kitchen and i respect it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

elysiashelby · 4 years ago

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In Another World - T.Shelby Imagine Ch. 18

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 8,466

WARNINGS: ANGST?, Vivid Murder Scenes, Cursing, “Fluff”

Summary: It’s been three months since Aliena was hired by Cassie’s father, Dom to be an assassin. Now she has to juggle her side job, a social life, and her main job. How will take take a toll?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 17 CHAPTER 19

A/N: So, if you’ve haven’t realized by now. Things are starting to get “bloodier”/ more violent. SEASON 2 STARTS NEXT CHAPTER!! I think I started this story this June or July, so this story isn’t even a year old yet. It sure feels like it! Well, Happy Holidays everyone and let’s hope 2021 is a better year.

The smell, oh, the smell was pungunt.

The scent of overwhelming iron surrounded me.

My hands were covered in it. The mixture of fresh red and dried reddish-brown made the color of my skin unrecognizable.

With wobbly legs, I made my way into the barren street. There was this continuous burn from overexertion in my thighs. The night breeze blew my hair around me and into my view.

With confident strides, I made my way to the kitchen counter. The air was humid from the oven and I was attempting to reach my destination in a timely manner, so that I can wash away this stickiness for my hands.

Then a loud whiz...passed by my ear/breezed passed me.

I sighed deeply before pivoting toward the direction of the bullet.

I exclaimed in surprise as John's children ran around the kitchen, passing me by with enough speed that caused me to be concerned.

I bent down, reached for my gun, and fired at the person.

I shouted at them, “Guys, get out of the kitchen and play in the living room! I don’t want youse gettin’ hurt.”

With my grip firmly around the collar of the unknown man, I drew back my fist and punched him over and over again. Daylight blinded me, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was making sure this man didn’t get back up.

With the back of my hand, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and kneaded the dough over and over again. Then, Ada came in, scolded me for doing more work than necessary, and passed me the rolling pin.

A new day and I was staring out a window, the man had an arm wrapped around my throat. Even though I was in a chokehold— I wasn’t worried. The wind that rattled the leaves of the tree outside was visually pleasing. I extended my arm and then drove my elbow into his ribs. He loosened his hold around my neck, I gripped his arm, and threw him to the ground. Without hesitation, I grasped my gun from my thigh holster and fired.

I carefully placed the rolled out dough on the platter and started smoothing it out with my fingers.

Killing is more work than I thought, but I didn't mind it. I held it in par with making this cherry pie.

I dusted my hands off before wiping them on my apron for good measure.

I wiped the blood on my hands on the guy's own face. Not like he could care. Stabbing someone without stopping would take feelings like discomfort away.

I bent down and shoved it in the oven.

I bent down as I dodged a right hook. I sprang back up and returned the favor. I grabbed the stunned man, quickly elbowed him in the face, and flipped him on his back. While still having a grip on his arm, I snapped it, dropped it as he screamed in pain, and then put a bullet between his eyes.

I watched as the life drained from his eyes.

I watched as the pie, slowly, began to brown.

Another day, another “mission.” I can’t tell you how many people I’ve killed since I’ve began in May. Three months have past, and I have to admit— it felt like I was completing a job every other day. I know I’m exhausted, but this thrill—! It was like a drug and I’m an addict.

The burning in my lungs hardly bothered me anymore as I was chasing down my latest target. He sniffed me out. Paranoid, he was, just like it said on the profile. He was just quicker than me. Noticed when I was pulling out my gun. The squirrely bastard!

I need to get this done quickly ‘cause I have to make another pie for Ada. She wanted one for her family ‘n said mine tasted too good to get one bought. I sympathized with her given her situation, and caved. Freddie was getting worse, no sign of getter any better. Despite that, he was still up and about.

I stopped running, stilled my body, steadied my gun, and fired. He crouched, flailing his hands in the air while crying out in fear. I groaned in frustration, my cheeks puffing out. The chase resumed.

It didn’t take long ‘til we were running across the hills. I noticed that his pace slowed and I decided to slow down with him. He was still running while I was speed walking. More like marching because of the steepness. I fired again and he fell to the ground.

Not a millisecond later, he was wailing loudly. Meaning, he was still alive. I rolled my eyes and marched right up to him. He was cradling his leg, blood seeping through his hands.

“God, you fucking bastard. Why’d you have to run?” I moaned. I let out a loud exhale, as I tipped my head back, and shook my arms.

He stuttered. “Please! Please don’t kill me!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I felt disgusted by his actions. I mean what kind of person do you have to be to get a mark on you, and then snivel like a little baby. It’s not just him. There’s been like six other guys who've had the same reaction. Oh, and two women.

Women targets don’t happen often. I’ve only received four orders to take out a woman. So far…

“You see. I might have had some mercy if you hadn’t fucking ran!” I said mockingly.

“Oh, god! Someone! Someone help me!”

I widened my eyes and began shaking my head. I took a deep breath and picked up my head. “Help! Somebody help him!” I shouted. I looked back at him and shook my head. “Nobody is out here, William.”

“Please.” He stuttered again. “I have children.”

I pursed my lips and shook my head. “And…”

“I-! I have to look after them.” He cried out.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Why should I care?”

He shook his head. “No! No!” He held up his blood soaked hands, covering his face while scurrying back.

I just watched him with a blank stare.

Then, he stilled and said. “Wait, wait! I have money!” He swallowed harshly. “I can give you money. I have… a lot of money.”

I prodded my cheek with my tongue before I asked. “How much?” I raised my eyebrow while lowering my gun.

He stammered for words. “200 pounds. No! 400!”

I dramatically blinked and waivered the aim of my gun. I was getting 23,500 for this guy! ‘I’ma fuck with him.’ I thought.

I smiled and said. “Alright, let’s go get it.”

I saw his face contort in relief. “Really?” He shouted.

I nodded, still smiling.

He struggled to get to his feet, and once he did— he glanced down at my gun.

I let out a little “oh” and pretended to tuck in the back of my pants. “You first.” I motioned him with my free hand, and watched as he hobbled past me.

I let him walk a few more steps until I felt like it was time to stop playing. I raised my gun again and pulled the trigger. My head cocked slightly to the side as I watched his body fall to the ground.

I sighed audibly and walked over to the body. I kicked him to face upwards and crouched down. I stared at his figure. A bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. Eyes open. He was kind of handsome.

“What a waste.” I muttered to myself. I rose back up and tucked my gun in the back of my pants. I took the guy’s coat off and laid him on top of it then used it to pull his body back to the car. It wasn’t my car. It was his. Dude thought that he was getting lucky tonight.

I posed as an upper class citizen at some horse meeting event. I wore a blonde wig and some equestrian clothing. I acted posh and nobody noticed a thing. This man liked his women on the bossy side and that’s what I gave him.

Anyway, I had to get to the nearest payphone to tell Dom that the job was done. He would send someone to get rid of the body along with my payment. Then, I would get a ride back home.

And that’s exactly what happened.

I was stitching up a jacket of Finn’s while watching my pie bake. I can’t express how tired I am. I keep sticking myself with the needle, but… I needed to fix this up. Finn only has so many suit jackets and most of them were hand-me-downs.

My sleeping schedule was thoroughly fucked. The adrenaline from this morning's events was wearing off and that meant exhaustion was going to take over soon.

I covered my mouth as I yawned before I finally finished up the last stitch. I threw both the needle and the jacket on the table, and then rubbed my eyes violently. I rested my elbows on my knees as the palms of my hands were digging into my eyes. I wasn't causing myself any pain, but I was aware of the pressure it brought.

I sniffed loudly before rising to my feet quickly, making the chair screech. I turned off the oven and then walked away. I read somewhere that if you leave your pie in the oven to cool down for around five minutes, then it does something to it. To this day, I don't know what it does. All that matters is that it lowers the risk of me getting burnt, and I have a few extra minutes to finish or start my next task.

I walked back to the couch where I continued to fold clothes. I would have to deliver the boys' laundries to their respective homes. Tommy moved out as did Arthur. The family had enough money for it. The only people left in the main house were Polly, Finn, and myself.

I didn't have time to adjust to the change. I'm just so tired by the time I walk into my room. The feeling of security Tommy brought with my knowledge he was just in the room over, was gone. My insomnia and paranoia would have acted up, but like I said- once I step into my bedroom, I practically black out.

I moaned while dropping my arms and my head while closing my eyes, a shirt still in hand. I craved sleep so badly. I huffed as I quickly folded up the shirt and threw it into a pile.

The Shelby’s had no idea, to the best of my knowledge, that I was taking long breaks for well, my “missions.” I took every opportunity to do work outside of the shop, and even lied to them. Told them that I had a date or two. Sometimes they were even successful, and so far I’ve had two imaginary beaus. We always broke up, though. One was because the dude was boring, and the other because he said my heart wasn’t in.

The only reason I was allowed these “dates” is thanks to Polly. Tommy argued against letting me have them, but they had a private talk ‘n well… You know who won.

I marched over to the oven, put on my mitts, and pulled it out. I carefully removed it from the mold and onto a plate. Then, I covered it up with some napkins. Ada would pick it up when she dropped by, or Polly would use it as an excuse to go and see her.

Speaking of Polly, I have to run and tell her that the bloody thing is done! I jogged into the shop and shuffled quickly over to Polly.

“Pol, Ada’s pie is done. I’ve left it on the counter.”

“All right, I’ll be taking it over to her flat when work is done.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m gonna get back to the laundry.”

She nodded. “Okay, love.”

I nodded one last time before marching back into the living room and began finishing up folding. I let my wander aimlessly as I did so.

I recalled my latest kills and daydreamed about my stories. Some of them involved Tommy. He was always the anti-hero or the straight up villain.

Also, since I have less time to myself— I’m not drawing, painting, or writing all that much. So, all of these plotlines are just in my head. They get so scrambled ‘n loud ‘cause I don’t have music to really express them.

I heaved a sigh as I threw the last pair of pants onto a pile. I sorted the piles into their respective baskets, threw on a coat, and then began my journey. John’s house was first. I didn’t do his laundry all the time. However, this was one of the rare times that Esme wanted me to work for the family again.

It would irritate me so much that she was practically working at the betting shop full time with John and would leave the kids running around at all hours, but now— I had my hands full. It would seem Katie is back to being a mum to her younger siblings.

When Katie opened the door for me, I was bombarded in kisses and hugs. It really did make my heart swell. I stayed for a chat ‘n then left. I still had to deliver Arthur and Tommy’s laundry. And cook dinner as well! For both Tom and the main house!

You’d think with how exhausted I am that I would just make the scran and scurry off to my room, but my body wouldn’t let me. I’d rather eat and it tastes like nothing than go to bed with an aching, empty stomach.

John lived in the opposite direction of his brothers which made the walk longer and my annoyance grow with each step. I tried taking calming breaths, but— that almost never works.

I knew he wouldn’t be home, but I knocked out of courtesy ‘n waited outside for like ten seconds. I put the basket down, scrambled to get the key to his flat, unlocked the door, and slid his basket in. I locked back up, picked up Tommy’s basket, and then went on my way.

I let out a big yawn as I walked. I covered it with my hand as best as I could. Didn’t want to be seen as improper! Believe me, I wish I wasn’t self-conscious about when I yawn, but there’s trauma behind it.

Teachers should really mind their language when correcting a child that isn’t theirs. God, it infuriates me even now the way I was treated. They had no right doing what they did. Saying what they did!

I rolled my eyes and felt my annoyance rise along with the presence of a headache. I grumbled under my breath.

‘Idiot, now you’ve gone and given yourself a headache!’ I thought as I began to quicken my pace.

I knocked at Tommy’s door, again out of courtesy. I knew he wasn’t home. I grabbed his key, unlocked the door, and walked right in. I ran up the stairs and into his room where I set his basket down on the bedroom bench. I dusted my hands and hurried down the stairs. My breasts bounced as I did so.

Look, I was just painfully aware that they did so as I made my way down, okay?

I walked right to the kitchen and checked his refrigerator. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that he had eaten the dinner I had prepared for him the night before.

It meant that I didn’t have to throw out good food.

I studied the ingredients in his fridge, that I jam packed, and settled on fish and chips. I took out the ready-made fish cuts, grabbed a bowl, filled it with hot water, and then set the cuts in there to defrost. I left the hot water running. I grabbed a couple of potatoes, washed them, and then began peeling.

It would take me quite a while to get this done. And, I was expected to make dinner at the other house too!

God, I want to go to sleep!

A whine slipped out as I stomped my foot.

What we do for things we want to do, eh?

By the time I was done cooking, the sun was down ‘n my stomach was attacking itself. I sighed heavily as I used the tongs to place the chips on his plate. I twirled around to place the pan back on the stove, wiped my hands on a napkin, and then grabbed the salt shaker. I turned back and sprinkled some more salt on the chips. Then I stood there. I stood there and looked at the meal I made for a man who might not even eat it.

I bit my lip and started wringing my hands tightly. After a grueling, ‘should I, should I not,’ I sat down in front of the meal abruptly and dug in. I don’t know why, but the meal tasted so much more flavorful than usual. I haven’t had fish and chips in ages, but it wasn’t that. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the fact that I made this meal in mind of another person, but the flavors just popped.

I’m just glad that my serving sizes reflected my mother’s. Which basically meant that I cooked enough food for, at most, another two servings. When I finished eating, I washed it all down with a cup of water then I had to plate again, and wash the plate I ate from.

When it was all said ‘n done, I made a beeline for the couch and flopped down on it. I grunted from the impact and groaned even louder. Everything ached!

I flipped ‘round, kicked off my heels, and let my hair down. I carelessly threw the pins on the little table next to me, and brought my knees to my chest. I tucked a couch pillow between my head and arm, the hand of this arm would be tucked under the pillow as my arm would rest on top of that one. Basically, the fetal sleeping position with a hand tucked under the pillow.

This was usually the only way I could go to sleep.

I let my eyes flutter shut and made a promise. ‘Just for a few minutes.’

“Ali.”

…

“Ali!”

I sat up with a sharp gasp. My heart was poundin’ out of my chest. It felt like a panic attack. I looked up at Tommy, who was standing over me.

“Have a nice nap, Ali?”

I just focused on getting my heart rate down.

While rolling a ciggie across his bottom lip, he asked. “There a reason why you’d be so tired? Who was it that you’re dating now? Brian? Henry? No, James! That’s his name.” His tone sounded so sarcastic that I found it to be cruel.

It felt like he was judging me.

I scoffed as I rubbed my eyes. “His name was Joseph and we broke up like a week ago.” I watched him sit down, his elbows resting on his knees. “You know what, why do you even care?”

I couldn’t even get my point across as he interrupted me with a sharp scoff. He took a short drag before saying, “If it affects your ability to do your job, then yes, Aliena. I care.”

I averted my eyes and replied through a semi-hidden pout. “But it hasn’t affected my job.”

“What else do you call this nap?”

My head snapped toward him and I threw him a look of pure confusion. “I was tired, Tom! Why else does one take a fucking nap?”

“Why would you be tired?”

I raised an eyebrow as I scoffed. “I had-! I didn’t sleep last night, okay! I-I’m…” I groaned as I threw myself back against the couch ‘n threw an arm over my eyes.

It was a big lie. I was asleep for like three hours! I had to get everything ready and exercise in preparation for today’s target. Time passed quickly and before you know it I had to make breakfast ‘n then work in the shop for a little.

I knew I won this little squabble when I heard a sigh. I barely managed to register it by the way, but I heard it, nonetheless.

“Right, well. Today it’s your insomnia, but tomorrow it can be because of something else.”

I squinted my eyes as I tried to decipher what the fuck he just said to me.

“Perhaps, it would be best if you put off dating for a while. Seems like you’re having bad luck as it is. Focus more on your job.” He heaved as he rose to his feet and began walking to the kitchen.

It was like his words finally registered as I rushed to my feet and shouted after him. “Hey, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me, Aliena.” He replied as he was pulling out his chair and sat down.

I noticed that he hadn’t poured himself anything to drink. I groaned loudly raising my arms as I did so, and marched back into the living room. “Yes, there is!” I shouted. “You’ve got a cob on ‘n you’re taking it out on me.” I poured him some whiskey and walked back to the kitchen. “You know what, you’ve been cross abar me goin’ on dates from the beginning! Why? You and the rest of the family were beggin’ me to find a fella ‘n now— what? You’ve had a change of heart.”

I slammed the whiskey down in front of him. I placed my hands on my hips and asked teasingly, a smile on my face as well. “Do you not like the idea of losing me, Tommy? Is that it? Afraid I’m going to be whisked away by some fella? Or! Do you want me to be more independent? Thinkin’ more modernly, lately, or what?”

Tommy had raised the glass to his lips, but set it back down by the time I was done talking. He gave me this deadpan stare that did not help my giggling.

We continued to stare at each other. While he was donning an emotionless expression, my dumb-arse was flinching up a storm. Whether it was twitches from my head or my hands. Plus the incessant laughing and ever changing facial expressions. Eventually, when my face and stomach began to hurt— I nipped my bottom lip harshly and took a deep breath.

It was then that I noticed that his jaw was clenched. I couldn’t figure out why for the life of me. I averted my eyes and took a seat. My eyes kept drifting back to Tom as I waited for him to say something, but he just kept his stoic expression for a while more. Tommy sniffed and cleared his throat as he removed the napkin covering his food, and took his utensils into his hands.

I wanted to scoff, but something was telling me that he didn’t say anything for a reason.

‘Maybe he refrained from humiliating me?’ I thought, trying to rationalize his behavior.

I took a deep breath before saying, “Well, fine, Tom. You win. I’ll lay off the scene for a while.” I crossed my legs and pulled my dress down. I leaned forward and rested my head in my hand.

Tommy took a swig of whiskey before he said. “Polly rang and said that you didn’t have to worry about making dinner. Said that you looked pale when you came back from your break this evening, and that she had a suspicion you would doze off at one of our flats.”

I chuckled as I drummed my fingers on the table. “Am I that predictable?”

Tommy looked me in the eyes and said. “Yes, you are.”

I sat up straight, my smile falling from my face.

Silence enveloped us, and I felt the urge to run and cry in more room grow by the second. I cleared my throat and rose to my feet. “Well, I better be heading back. Good night, Tommy.” I turned around and began making my way to the entrance.

However, I didn’t get ten steps in before Tommy called after me. “Wait!” His chair scraped along the tile loudly behind me.

I stopped where I stood and slowly faced him. His head was hanging and he was holding himself up by his arms.

Tommy looked up at me and tsked. “Stay. … For a little while more.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Did you need something, Tommy?”

He breathily replied. “No. Just. Want you to stay a little while more.” He hung his head again by the end of his words.

I gave him a small smile. “Okay, then. I’ll stay.” I walked back over to the chair and sat back down. As did he.

I figured he wouldn’t like me just watching him as he ate, so I resorted to talking to him about my days. Just like old times.

I guess I managed to loosen him up a bit because he brazenly began to ask me about my romances. I, of course, told him the exact same things I’ve told Polly. To the T. I couldn’t afford to add on since they probably talk about this with each other, as they did with everything else.

I managed to make him laugh twice. And, of course, it was at my expense. Bastard.

I noticed that Tom was done eating, so I rose to my feet while reaching for his empty plate. “All done, Tom?” I asked as I walked around the table and to the sink.

He let out a quick, “Yeah.”

So, I cleaned the dish. There was a short comfortable silence before Tommy stood beside me ‘n cleared his throat. I wiped the plate dry while glancing at him through my peripherals.

Tommy took an audible breath before asking, “How is Freddie?”

I averted my eyes at the question. I sniffed. “He’s… He’s not getting better, Tom.”

Tom took the plate from my hands, which made me stare up at him. Emotionless, he was. “Tom…”

He cut me off, asking, “Has Ada told you anything? Or have you heard about his condition from the doctor?”

I swallowed as I watched him put away the plate in the cupboard. “They, uh…” God, I was awful at this. And because I was talking so much, my fatigue was up again. “The doctor said that Freddie has a more severe case of the disease, and that he has anywhere from six months to a few years. Can’t tell, he said.” I crossed my arms and hugged myself. I muttered. “Said you can never know with tuberculosis.”

Slowly, Tommy leaned on the sink. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack. He looked vulnerable and… heartbroken. It broke my heart to see him like this.

Before I could even utter a word of my sympathies, I was being pulled into his arms. His breath was tickling my neck, so I had to bite my tongue harshly to prevent myself from giggling.

The last time he was like this, he found out that Grace had been the traitor. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting Tom to be so affected by Freddie’s illness. The two had just been so cross with each other that the fact they used to be best friends completely went over my head. They were childhood friends, at that. Maybe if I’d seen the relationship they had, I’d be more sympathetic, but… I can’t say Freddie’s illness bothered me to this extent. He was simply sick...and dying.

Freddie only lasted a season, so there wasn’t much time to get his character development ‘n such. Even if he had, I’d doubt that I’d grow an attachment to ‘em. Freddie was borderline abusive, in my opinion. He reminded me of my sister’s ex-boyfriend, the one who touched me. I’m not saying Freddie is capable of molestation, but from what I remember about the day Polly went to see him at his mother’s grave— everything he did after that didn’t sit right with me. Plus, the time where he took his anger out on Ada while she was pregnant.

Nobody is a saint, but those actions spoke volumes to me ‘n I grew wary around him. I’m not saying that he deserves to die. He doesn’t. But, nor do I care much about his ailment either.

I ran a hand through his hair, bringing him closer to me, and he did the same to me. I can’t deny that I shivered from the action, his cold hand running through my hair. We were hugging so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

“Tommy!” I gasped out. I waited for a response, but he gave me nothing. I called his name out again and again and again.

“Please.” His lips smacked. “Just-! Just a little while longer.”

I hummed and rubbed his back.

Tommy let out a sigh before saying, “Nobody came back the same. Nobody. Freddie… Freddie took a bullet for me ‘n what have I done, eh? What have I done with that chance he gave me?”

Though, I wanted to respond. Though, I wanted to comfort him and silence the noise in his head. I knew better than to interrupt someone in a rant.

“We-We used to be so close, you know. He was my best mate, but I made a promise to meself that I’d change. I’d change this family for the better. I’d protect it better. Freddie! Freddie wanted to change the world, still. Still wanted revolution. But a war like that takes time and- and connections and money.” He scoffed. “It’s not happening in this lifetime, that’s for sure. Status, money, and violence is what makes the world go round. Not justice and pretty words.” He laughed, dryly.

He couldn’t see with my face hidden in his neck, but my face contorted harshly. I felt like crying from his words. His tone was so strained and full of pain.

“But, it seems that there was still some part of me that hoped that he could do it. That he and Ada could change the world. And now, now… I’m losing him to the same fucking disease.”

Greta, he was talking about Greta.

My mouth moved before I could stop it. “Greta, right?” His hold on me loosened, and funnily enough— the separation allowed for some fresh air to squeeze in.

He hummed in confirmation. “Who blabbered to you about her, eh?”

“It was Freddie, actually.” He held me tight again. When he didn’t say anything else, I took it as my turn to speak. “You know, Tom, you’re right in acknowledging that you all came back different. You focused on the small, your family while Freddie focused on the big, the government. Nobody-!” I sighed while averting my eyes. “I don’t blame you for that. I’m sure you both actually held the same dream.”

“What dream would that be?” He whispered.

While I didn’t break the hug, I shifted us around so that I could cradle his face. “To protect your family.” His eyebrows furrowed and his lip quivered before he left out a snicker. “What!” I exclaimed. “Okay, maybe not just your family, but you know what I mean! Families all over.” He was still snickering as he bent down and hid his face in my neck. “Oh, do one. You know what I meant, Thomas Shelby.”

Once his snickering was under control, I added. “You know, it’s not too late to make amends. He’s still running around London, preaching of his revolution. Plus, there’s always the chance-!”

“No, no there’s not, Ailena.” His head shot up and his hands held my face. My hands, on reflex, went to remove his grip, but I took a deep breath and rested my hands on his. “He’s not miraculously gonna get better. You said it yourself. The doctor said his condition is severe.”

I hummed and muttered “is right”. There was a silence that dropped between us again. But this one was different. His eyes kept glancing up and down, but at what? ‘Was there something on my face?’ I wondered as I was admiring his eyes. I could never get tired of looking at his baby blues.

But then reality interrupted as he cleared his throat and dropped his hands from my face. We both took a step back, and I shyly hung my head. Then, I started rocking on my heels till I made finger guns as I walked into the living room.

Tommy said. “Thanks for…”

I cut him off. “You don’t have to thank me, honestly.”

“Well, then. At least let me take you back to the ‘ouse.”

I chuckled loudly. “Fine then! But I’m warning ya now, I’m super tired, right now. That means I’ma talk your ear off!” I grabbed my coat off the hanger as he opened the door for us.

Tommy scoffed while holding the door open, his head tipping back and a grin on his face. “Like I’m not used to it.”

“Ha!” I shouted while twirling around to face him as he was locking the door. “Az if! It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with me at night.”

“Sure, but doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten the experience. That sort of damage lasts a lifetime.”

I gasped and smacked his arm.

I was thinking about Tommy’s smiling face as I traced the rim of my martini.

I didn’t focus on the lavish scene around me. I was wearing a black wig that had the cut of a bob in a red dress. I was standing at the bar of this hotel. People were seated in tables behind me, their conversations were loud over the soft music playing. There were a few people and couples standing at the bar with me, but they were far away from me.

Ever since Grace, he’s been more serious. Keeps more things bottled up. I mean I don’t blame him. Probably feels that he needs to be more guarded since it was so easy for Grace to infiltrate, you know? Maybe I hurt him too.

I laughed to myself, a hand hovering over my mouth. I took a couple of stumbling steps, making sure it looked like I was having a hard time standing up straight. While I was playing the part of a drunken damsel, nothing could break the concentration I had on my black clutch.

Tonight’s target was a poor excuse of a human being who liked to take advantage of women. Rough sex, rape, the whole fucking sha-bang! He’s been known to take a drunk woman up to his room and have his way with her. Practically gloated about it.

“Hello, pretty lady. All alone tonight, are you?”

I let out a soft, “Ha!” I took a swig of my drunk before facing him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” My words were purposefully slurred.

“I would very much.”

God, he was so not my type. I was gonna have to put my mouth on his. He has a mustache too! Well, if Tommy looked like Cillian did in Free Fire— I wouldn’t be opposed to it.

I scoffed before giving him a sultry smile. “Well, I am. Alone.”

“Ah!” He drawled out while closing the distance between us.

He smelled rancid. I bit my tongue to stop my face from contorting in disgust.

“How about I buy another round for us, huh?”

I kept my smile as I replied. “That would be great!”

I had to entertain this guy for a while till he suggested that we should do somewhere more private. That meant going up to his hotel room. I accepted and “drunkenly” walked with him to the elevator.

I did nothing as he slammed my limp body against the wall of the elevator as basically inhaled my mouth. I let him grope my body and my only solace was knowing we would be in his room any second and the grip I had on my clutch.

The elevator finally stopped and he took a step back from me. I panted for breath as I covered my mouth. He looked down at me as if he’d won something. As if he was saying, “There’s more where that came from.”

He yanked the gate of the elevator back and tugged me forward. I said nothing and followed him. I clinged to his arm as he led us to his room. Once he opened the door, he was on me again.

I could feel him bend down and his hand tapped my thigh. I jumped on his command and wrapped myself around him, clutch still in-hand. He walked us into the room, slamming the door shut using his foot. Then, he walked us over to the bed and threw me on it.

I groaned on impact and I let my clutch fall to the ground. He climbed over me, pressed his mouth on mine, and started to hike up my dress. My hands clawed at his. I desperately tried preventing him from hiking up my dress.

‘I am still in control.’ I thought.

I did a quick maneuver, so that I was on top of him.

“What the fuck!”

“Please.” I said. “Let me take care of everything.”

In an instant, the look of anger vanished from his face into a shit-eating grin.

“You want me this badly, huh? Well, go on. Get to it.”

I kissed him a couple of more times before I began to unbutton his shirt. I left a trail of kisses behind. Then, swung my leg off of him. I rose to my feet. I pretended to take off my heels, but I was really picking up my clutch.

I could hear his exciting panting which told me he was focusing on the pleasure and not on me. I quickly opened my clutch and took out the syringe. I let my clutch fall to the floor twice to mimic the sound of shoes falling to the ground.

I walked to the end of the bed, keeping the syringe hidden by holding it vertical in my palm against my arm. I placed it carefully by his feet and then began taking off his shoes.

When his feet were bare, he finally spoke.

“Hurry up, will you? For fuck’s sake.”

I uncapped the syringe, stuck it between his big toe and the second, and then emptied its contents. I watched as horror contorted his face. His eyes went wide as his jaw slacked.

I cleared my throat as I wiped my mouth. I walked over to where I left my clutch, picked it up, and laid it on the bed. I could hear him let out pathetic little gasps. I leaned over his face, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon. In a few minutes, actually.” I looked at him and felt nothing. With my finger, I stroked his cheek. “I’ve been ordered to make your death look natural. I don’t know why nor do I care to know. However-!” I gripped his chin and made him look at me. “I know you were a very bad man who did very bad things, especially to women.” I smiled and while pursing my lips I said. “See this as your karma.” I chuckled while letting go of my grip on his chin.

The same time I rose to my feet, I could hear the laughter of men.

‘What the fuck? What were they planning a gangbang?’

I reached down and slid out the knife I hid in my heel. I quickly turned around and slit his throat. He instantly started gurgling. Two men entered the room, not altered. They came in while talking to one another. I held out an arm to steady my aim and then threw my knife at one of them.

The man fell to the ground while barely clutching his chest.

I made work of the armchair between me and the man still standing. While he had taken out his gun, it wouldn’t help as I launched myself from the chair, my knee hitting his chest, and knocking him down.

I took the gun from his grasp, turned ‘round to the man who was holding my knife, and fired two shots. One to the heart and one to the chest.

I looked down at the man with my heel on his throat. “Are there more coming?”

“Fuck you.”

I pressed down harder. “Are there more coming?” I shouted.

“Yes.”

I shot him in the head, hurried over to the door, and then crouched down. I could hear men approaching. They were talking loudly, probably exchanging orders. I waited until one came into my view.

There were two of them. I grabbed the one closest to me and his gun went off. He turned to me to which I did not waste the opportunity to shoot him twice in the chest. The other guy used that time I was focused on his partner to grab my wrist and move my gun away from his head. With a grip still on my wrists, I grunted out in pain as he began to deliver blows to my side.

I whipped my head forward and then back. He cried out loudly. I fought to free myself from his grip. I managed to twist myself around in his arms and send a blow to his inner thigh that had him buckling. I gained some control just in time to shoot the man who was walking in, but his grip on me was still strong. He rose to his feet, threw my arms on top of the armchair, and disarmed me.

I quickly elbowed him in the face and his head flew back. I composed myself and readied myself for his next attack. He tried punching me, but I blocked it. He attempted it again, but I grabbed his wrist in time to notice the figure creeping up in my vision.

I made the decision to flip up onto the ground, effectively avoiding machine gun fire. I kept my grip on his arm tight to the point where he was moaning in pain. I guided us up and used him as my shield. My focus was completely on the man holding the machine gun.

The man I was holding was begging his comrade not to shoot, but I was more concerned by how close he was getting. I walked us forward, threw him to his friend, and quickly sent the man who was holding the machine gun— a punch to his face. I quickly latched onto the machine gun.

The man I threw, sprung back up and before he could attack, I sent him flew back with a kick to the chest. I elbowed the man holding the machine gun again which made him hold onto the trigger. I aimed to gun at the other man, killing him. I couldn’t help but smile as he was sent back with his hands flailing in the air.

The man who was attached to the gun got a grip on my hair. I grunted in pain as he twirled us around to a different airchair in the room. I got a better grip on the gun and drove it into his chest. He let out sharp yelp. I hit him with the gun again, this time in the face.

Though I felt an arm wrapped around my neck, I kept my cool and drove my elbow into his torso. He groaned. I gripped the arm that was wrapped around my neck and then used my other hand to get a grip on the back of his neck. I flipped him off me and onto the armchair. Which he fell off of.

I didn’t waste anytime retrieving my knife back, kicking the body off of my blade with a disgusted cry. Once I slid back in my knife, I hurried over to the body, scooped up some of his blood, and smeared it on my face and chest. I, also, grabbed a gun and finished off the other two I had knocked out.

I walked into the hallway and when the voices of men were near my proximity— I began crying out for help.

One of them held me in his arms. I tried my hardest to appear distraught and pleaded with them to help the man I had killed. The man holding me led me to the elevator and promised to get me to safety.

As we were on the elevator, my hands skimmed over his second gun in his waist holster.

‘That’ll come in handy.’

When the elevator ride was over, he sat me down and ordered me not to move. As he turned away, I took the liberty of relieving him of his gun. I was on my feet not a heartbeat later. I blended in with the stampede of people who were rushing to get out of the hotel.

When I separated from the herd, I reached down, tore a piece of my dress and hopefully, wiped away the blood on my face. I ran down two streets to nick a car.

It would be an understatement to say that I’m angry.

I yanked off the wig I was wearing as I was driving, pins ‘n all. I ruffled my hair out while huffing. My eyes drifted to the middle of the car, looking for a clock. I groaned when I remembered what time period I was living in.

With one hand threaded in my hair and the other on the wheel, I just focused on getting to the mansion as fast as I could.

I was going over my conversation with Dom in my head before it happened.

Was I going to accuse him of not giving me all the Intel on purpose? Was I going to swallow my anger and just demand proper compensation for the additional kills? Would I even be docked pay because the hit was ordered as a natural death, and it ultimately was very fucking messy?

I huffed and finally placed both of my hands on the wheel while increasing my pressure on the gas.

I pulled up to the mansion with a screeching halt. I ignored the henchmen that came toward me and tried to prevent me from storming the place. I made a beeline to Dom's office and hurt anyone who got in my way.

I pushed open the double doors so harshly, they slammed against the wall.

"We need to talk." I demand.

I could hear the beginnings of spluttering behind me. "S-Sir! We tried to stop her, but the orders and sh-she fought back."

Dom didn't turn around as he continued to gaze out the window. A glass in his dominant hand. With a flick of his wrist, he said. "Leave us."

His henchman attempted to plead so more, but Dom repeated himself— louder this time.

With a clear voice, I said. “There were other men.” I let out a huff and sucked at my teeth for showing my emotions so blatantly. “He orchestrated nonconsensual orgies! I took out the ones that posed a threat.” I let my voice trail off as I began to rub my wrist incessantly.

“How many?” He asked.

I swallowed silently as I tried to recall. “Not including the target, seven extra kills.”

“Were you hurt?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at the questions. Of course, I had to fight for my life. Of course, I was hurt. “Uh, yes. I was dealt a few blows but I didn’t sustain any slashes or gunshot wounds.”

“No, Aliena. Were you hurt?”

There was an insinuation behind his words that I understood perfectly. “No.” I whispered. “No, I held my own.”

Dom finally turned around and I could see the anger in his face. It was subtle.

I remember a time where I swore I could never read faces. But I don’t know ever since I woke up here, my body hasn’t been the same. Maybe it was this body, or perhaps it was all that time I spent with Tommy.

He slammed his glass down, which made me flinch, and then leaned against his desk. He let out a shuddering breath before he sniffed loudly, stood up straight, and pointed at me. “The target was an important one for which you would have been paid 25,500. However, now it will be 43,800. Now, leave. I’ll have Richard give you the payment tomorrow.”

I was stunned for a second before I bowed and left the house as fast as a cat running out of a rainstorm. It wasn’t until I was out on the road that I realized that I had bowed to him as if he were some fucking king!

‘Damn you and your kinks! You bloody better beaut!’ I thought. My actions spurred on my “tics” or fidgets, I call them. I was repeatedly flicking my nose, scrunching up my face, and smacking my hand over my mouth. They calmed down after a while. Exhaustion was eating me up as was pain in my side.

The fucker really got me there.

Usually, I would have ditched the car a few cities back and just run on back home, but I was so tired. I ditched the car down a hill where I knew there had been water at the end and marched back home with my wig in hand.

When I was finally standing in front of the flat’s door, I groaned to myself. I slapped my cheeks repeatedly as I prepared myself to get back into stealth mode. I made sure to step on certain spots on the floor to decrease their squeaks, and open and close doors at a snail’s pace. The stairs were the hardest. Switching between taking one and two at a time.

By the time I entered my room, I’d ripped my clothes off me and thrown them and my wig aside. I carelessly put on a night gown and settled myself into bed. Fortunately, soon after my head hit my pillow I was asleep.

“Aliena, love! It’s time to get up!” Polly shouted as she pounded her fist against my door.

I shot up and realized I was awake now. My face contorted as I began to sob, my arms crossing over my eyes the same time as I threw myself back down on my bed.

I whimpered out. “I’m so tired!”

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero @thatweirddaydreamer @xxbeckybeexx-blog @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

#in another world #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x oc #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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soybeantree · 5 years ago

Text

a baby changes everything

pairing: do kyungsoo x (reader)

genre/warning: artificial insemination, drama

word count: 2.3k+

description: when you decided to have a baby, you knew everything would change, but this is not what you expected...

a/n: november installment of our ‘trying to write a kyungsoo story for every month that he is gone’ series.

parts: o1 | o2

Cars splash through puddles as they whiz down the streets. Rain continues to patter down on the bus stops awning. Resting your hand on your stomach you attempt to quell your little one’s movements with a soft whisper. He continues to push against his boundaries, ready to enter the world or perhaps eager to protect his mother. Your nerves have much to do with his unease. Your internal whispering have had the same affect on you as it did on him. There is no calming your nerves.

Your bus arrives, and with a deep breath, you push yourself up and board. A thirty minute commute stretches between you and the upcoming encounter. It drags on, while simultaneously rushing ahead. You’re not ready for the meeting, but neither would you be given more time. They gave you a week to come to a decision, even though you knew your answer the day they asked. Your son is your son, and you will fight to keep him.

The first day you met your son’s father was the day his family requested you relinquish to them your rights to your unborn son. He sat silently at the end of a long boardroom table, his eyes fixed on something beyond the room’s windows. His lawyers and secretary were anything but. They chattered incessantly and at a speed which left you confused and irritated. Eventually, you tuned them out as your focus rested on your sperm donor. He was rich, presumably well-educated, and based on the current diatribe due to become the CEO of his family’s company. The question which circulated most through your head was “why?”.

Why would someone like him go to a sperm bank? Clearly not for money. Perhaps treatment for an illness. Was he saving it for some future spouse? Were you given his sperm by accident?

In the end, why didn’t matter. What mattered was that your son was his son, and his family wanted his son. Your son was to be his heir and the heir to their company. You would become his surrogate, relinquishing all legal rights to him.

At the end of the meeting, they offered you a contract which outlined your duties for the remainder of your pregnancy and beyond. It included a gag order and the information regarding your compensation. They gave you a week to decide. As you prepared to leave, they delicately advised what would happen should you reject the offer. They had the means and the legal team to ensure your son ended up where he belonged, and when they succeeded you would end up desolate and destitute. The world passes by in a blur of gray. Water droplets race down the bus windows, and you watch them, betting on which will win. The distraction fails, so you stop. Your hand returns to your stomach, and this time you hum instead of whisper.

Telling your family you were going to undergo artificial insemination had released chaos. Your mother went silent, but her judgment was tangible. Your sisters vocalized their disapproval. You were still so young. You had plenty of time to find a guy and get married.

Telling your co-workers had started the gossip mill. Their disapproval stemmed from the opposite direction. You were a successful career woman, steadily climbing the corporate ladder. A child would complicate your life, and a woman didn’t need to have a baby to be complete.

You smiled politely and thanked everyone for their concern. On the day of your insemination appointment, you arrived early and prayed for success. A month later you received the wonderful news.

The comments petered out after you shared the news. The disapproval remained in their eyes though. You continued to smile politely as you planned for your new life.

Everything was going to plan which should have been a red flag that something would go wrong. Early in your third trimester after all your baby-showers and after you had completed your baby’s room, you received a visitor at work. His business card identified him as a legal representative of EXO Corporation, a corporation known the whole world over. You doubted the validity of his claim. Your employer had no connection with EXO Corporation, and your only personal connection came via the products you buy from their subsidiaries.

The man assured you he was indeed a part of their legal team and requested to arrange a meeting with you and the corporations president. You had snorted, the reaction involuntary but accurate. With a clipped smile, he informed you that they would send a car to pick you up the coming Saturday.

A car had arrived that Saturday, a week ago. It took you to the meeting which has haunted you and robbed you of sleep. This Saturday, you left before a car arrived.

The bus pulls up to your stop. You whisper a thank you to the driver as you descend the stairs. The EXO building looms over you, leaving you in its shadow. A chill shakes your shoulders. Raising your umbrella, you square the and march forward.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” You skitter to a stop and glance around for the source of your name. Do Kyungsoo stands beside a sleek black car, reminiscent of the one which came for you. From beneath his umbrella, he raises a hand in greeting, and you unconsciously mimic the gesture. Snapping your hand to your side, you politely nod before resuming your march. Ire burns in your stomach, but you smother it with reason. You need to be clear headed for the coming battle.

Arriving at the elevator, you tuck your umbrella in your purse and wait in vain for the doors to open before he comes. Kyungsoo takes the spot next to you, but the crowd of workers inhibits conversation. You board and ensure the crowd separates you. As the elevator ascends, the workers exit on their floors until only you two remain.

“I had hoped to speak with you before today’s meeting.” And he had tried. Every day at exactly 5PM, he would call, and after going to voice mail, he would send the same text. If you are available today, I would like to speak with you. “We still have a few minutes before the meeting. I intend to grab some coffee. We have water and juice.”

“I’m fine.” You decline with a polite smile. “I’d prefer to keep my time here brief.” The elevator dings, and the doors open. Kyungsoo motions for you to exit. He falls into step beside you and opens the door to the boardroom. Your upbringing forces a ‘thank you’ from your lips.

While you and Kyungsoo may be early, the legal team is earlier. They already sit around the table, vultures ready to pounce. When Kyungsoo enters, they stand and show their respect. He returns the greeting and situates himself at the head of the table. The legal team sits and motions for you to do the same.

You remain standing and meet their eyes. “Thank you, but there’s no need. I’m not selling you my baby.” Anger burns in your chest as you utter the vulgar response.

The head of the legal team smiles with all the sincerity of a fox. “Ms. Y/L/N, that’s a rather crude way of looking at this situation. We are merely compensating you for your services.”

“I don’t need compensation because I haven’t provided any services to your president or this company. I chose to have a baby. I chose the sperm from the options given to me. I chose to be inseminated. This baby,” you rest your hand on your womb, “is my baby. As we have no further business, I will be going. Goodbye.” You nod to them before exiting the boardroom. Indignation and threats fly at your back, but as the door closes behind you, they fade into silence.

Once more setting your hand on your belly, you feel peace. Your son has finally settled down to sleep.

In the nursery, you sit in the rocking chair you spent weeks agonizing over. Relaxing into its plush cushions, you commend yourself for your good decision. You have no regrets regarding your son, but certain decisions weigh heavier on your mind. The EXO corporation has maintained silence since you gave your decision, but their threats linger. If they decide to pursue legal action, you may lose your son.

The door buzzer breaks you from your revere. The rocking chair cushions are easy to sink into but difficult to climb out of. After much struggle, you free yourself. Eying the chair, you second guess your decision. The buzzer sounds again, and you table that thought for later.

Staring at the door cam screen sends fear winding through your veins. Kyungsoo’s face stares at you. He reaches for the buzzer again, but you open the door before he can push it. Body blocking entrance, you meet his eyes. He offers a smile which you refuse to return. With a nod, he pulls his hand from behind his back to reveal a take-away bag from your favorite restaurant. Your eyes narrow as you inch the door closed.

Clearing his throat, he lowers the bag. “I probably should have gotten something generic and not from the background check we did.”

“Probably.”

“It’s a peace offering. I was hoping we could talk. If not, the food is still yours.” He extends the bag, the smell of the food wafting forward. Your stomach growls, and your son nudges you. With a sigh, you grab the bag, keeping your fingers far from his. His arm returns to his side as he awaits your decision. Curiosity and fear mingle in your mind. Stepping back, you open the door wide.

You leave him in the entryway as you head to the kitchen. He enters as you finish transitioning the food from the container to a plate. The bag only contained one portion of your favorite dish. You settle at the table with your food. He takes up position in the kitchen’s center, hands clasped behind his back.

“I wanted to let you know that my corporation will not be suing you for custody. I have told them that we will respect your decision.” He begins as you chew on your first bite. Relief floods you as tears prick your eyes. Swallowing, you nod in acknowledgment but keep your attention on your food. “I also wanted to apologize.” Your next bite lodges in your throat as your knuckles whiten around your fork. Kyungsoo silences.

“Continue.” You offer before standing up and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

“I’m sorry for the way my company and my family treated you.” You pull a water pitcher from the fridge. “I’m also sorry for allowing them to harass you, my reasons for doing so were cruel.”

“Because you wanted to steal my son.” Your voice remains steady despite the roiling in your stomach. You set the pitcher beside your glass. Your hands are shaking too badly to pour.

“Because I didn’t trust you.”

“Trust me?!” Your eyes flash to him, your hands balling into fists on the counter top

He maintains your gaze. “I had concerns that you had chosen my sperm on purpose and intended to use the baby to exhort money from me. After meeting you and seeing your love for your son, I put my concerns to rest.”

Anger still burns inside, but you release your fists and pick the pitcher back up. You guzzle the first glass and pour yourself another. This one you hold in your hand, swirling it and watching the ripples. “Is that all?”

"No." You glance back up. He continues to stand in the middle of your kitchen, his attention fully on you. "I also came to ask you to consider allowing me to be a part of my son's life."

“Why?” The word snaps out.

“Because he is my son, and the only child I will have.”

“What?” You breath the question as you set your glass back on the counter.

“Last year, I was in an accident.” The tabloids had covered it ad nauseam. “What was left out of the news report was that the accident left me infertile. Information which could be detrimental to the corporation.”

“Did they have you save your sperm in case of something like this?” The “whys” you pondered resurface as you take your glass and return to the table.

A smile cracks his face, and he chuckles. “No. That was a lucky happenstance.” Curiosity tingles the tip of your tongue, but you seal your lips. The smile continues to play on Kyungsoo’s lips. He motions to the chair across from you, and you nod. As he sits, he continues. “After high school, I went through what my parents call my rebellious stage.” You snort around a bite, pieces of food flying to the table. Covering your mouth, you clear your throat and attempt to regain your composure. With him sitting across from you in a perfectly tailored three piece suit, you find it hard to imagine him going through a rebellious stage. He shakes off your reaction. “I ran away from home, lived on friend’s couches, worked odd jobs. At one point, I became desperate for cash, and my friend suggested selling my sperm. Any option was better than swallowing my pride and crawling back to my parents.

“After the accident when my parents and the board began to worry about the future of the company, I told them about the sperm. They went to the bank, but-” He shrugs. You know the rest of the story.

Running your thumb through the condensation on the glass, you contemplate his story and his request. “If I say, ‘no’?”

“I will respect your decision, but will request that if my son ever wants a relationship with me, you will allow it.”

“If I say, ‘yes’?”

“I will respect the boundaries you put in place.” You settle your hands in your lap and meet his gaze once again. You search beneath his calm demeanor and find the flicker of hope.

“You know a lot about me.” He swallows but nods. “May I get to know you better before I decide?” The hope brightens, and he nods again.

#hmw #kyungsoo #do kyungsoo #d.o.#exo #kyungsoo drabble #do kyungsoo drabble #d.o. drabble #exo drabble #kyungsoo collection #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo fanfiction

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mochees · 4 years ago

Text

"𝗱𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰"

-> headcanons, they do be gettin domestic out here huh

characters: daichi, sugawara, asahi, bokuto x gn!reader

warnings: SFW & slight NSFW gender-neutral headcannons

wc: 1.2K

a/n: my second ever fan material is dedicated to vanessa and valerie i love u both thank u for being my personal hypewomen this is for u, a little POUR of domesticity <3

Daichi Sawamura

housework is generally split 50/50, but when one of you has had a long day more often than not the other will do more to make it 75/25

is an AMAZING chef

you cant fight me on this he's a whiz in the kitchen

you take turns setting up date night and one of his favourite things to do for you is cook

on weekends he sleeps in and you use it as time to make him breakfast and work on your cooking skills but as soon as he smells it or hears you hes up and on you

he'll stand behind you and wrap himself around you trying to help or guide you in any way he can while simultaneously kissing your head and telling you how much he loves you serving as more of a distraction than praise

after breakfast he'll INSIST on doing the dishes so you have to settle for helping each other before it turns into an all out WAR

avid pet name user likes to call you: honey, sweetie, love, babycakes, and babe

grocery shopping? COUPLES ACTIVITY

BUT ALSO A RACE/COMPETITION TO SEE WHO CAN GET THE PRODUCE AND MEAT/DAIRY THE FASTEST

when everythings been done in the house or you're both just tired he'll lay down on the couch and pull you down with him and you could stay in his arms like that for literal hours especially when he puts a blanket on the two of you and a movie's playing or even if you just straight up nap together 🥺🥺🥺

full on hot and heavy make out sessions

like literally anywhere

this man LOVES you

common knowledge at this point that daichi sawamura is a dom and a kinky MF

is open to trying anything in the bedroom before he makes a final decision

but is also very concerned about your comfort and consent!!! safe respectful sex people !!!!

gives strong dog lover vibes, probably would want to get a big dog with you something like a dalmation, retriever/lab, or german shephard

would absolutely LOVE that dog and you would have to fight the dog over your man before you lose him forever

Asahi Azumane

lisTEN UP Y'ALL CAUSE THIS IS IT the beat that im bangin is delicious 🤪

this MF is SOFT for you

like we already been knew hes a big teddy bear but this man? this man STARES at you 24/7 in absolute AWE

he goddamn LOVES YOU

would probably have proposed like no sooner than a year into your relationship (if marriage is ur thing if not NICE yall cool AF LIVE THAT NO GOVERNMENT INVOLVED LIFESTYLE)

anyway, when you go grocery shopping he will not let you carry any heavy bags. you can carry the bread and like maybe a bag of potatoes but thats it.

also loves to cook for you

hes no whiz in the kitchen but god damn he puts his heart and SOUL into cooking for you

but he loves it when you cook for him because "anything you make is amazing sweetheart"

doesn't use a variety of petnames especially baby and babe because he feels they're too objectifying so he only really uses sweetheart and love

unless you're in the bedroom, then baby and babe are free real estate.

is shy at first but after a few times knows EXACTLY how to treat you RIGHT

definitely wants kids probably 2, MAYBE 3

ideally wants a boy and a girl but oh boy, if he had two girls, spoiled little babies, daddys girls

this man he drinks tea. real men drink TEA.

hes got that earl grey with two teaspoons of sugar vibe goin on

you have multiple TV shows on the go together and you love to sit down at the end of the day or on a free weekend and just straight up BINGE until your eyelids are heavy

afterwards you'll cuddle in bed and fall asleep within minutes and just hold each other all night 🥺🥺🥺

Koushi Sugawara

he BABIES you

like not in a "i view you as incompetent" way but in a just genuine love and affection "my s/o is baby" way

like Asahi, he watches you in awe like you're a newborn baby just developing motor and speech skills

cooking is like a split evenly thing and u both love it just as much when you cook for each other so its not really a huge part of your romance

HOWEVER food COULD be part of your romance ;)

im talking like whipcream maybe some body shots ;) who knows! not you! suga is like johzenji in bed! crazy and a little confused he's unpredictable!

anywho, also enjoys the mundane things like grocery shopping what else do adults do i dont know im only in twelfth grade and i still sleep in until 11

pet names!!! uses!! pet names!!!!! LOVES pet names!!!! honey, sweetheart, love, he likes the more affectionate, mushy ones

although if other guys are flirting with u and he gets jealous he will NOT hesitate to call u babe/baby in front of them

you call him sugar. if you don't you're lying.

he's not super built like some of the other guys but he does still have a bit of muscle obvi, and the best part is because hes not super built he SQUISHY

SO HIS CUDDLES ARE JEJEJEWJ THE BEST

likes to go on walks together as frequently as you can, weather not really dependant and he WILL hold your hand and he WILL kiss it

if its really hot that day on your walk he'll buy you icecream and if its colder probably hot chocolate, or coffee or something

idk why but,,, i feel like he gives the best massages?? like maybe its because he's a setter and he's got those good hands ;) but just,,, i need a suga back rub :((((

Koutarou Bokuto

bokuto drinks his RESPECT MY S/O JUICE DAILY

is BAD AT COOKING DO NOT LET HIM IN THE KITCHEN

your cast iron frying pan will CHIP

he will confuse salt and sugar and probably flour and icing sugar

so just either bokuto-proof your kitchen or put a goddamn steel door with a retinal scanner

suspiciously good at cleaning

like everytime you see him clean your face visibly makes a ???

because this man has approximately no braincells???

what the fuck is he??? a male cinderella????

BUT u dont complain when he does

1, because it helps evenly divide the basic domestic needs of eating and cleaning

and 2, he likes to clean with his shirt off

he does, he likes to make you drool over him, he KNOWS you see him and he will PURPOSELY flex his muscles just to make u squirm

is fucking kinky but you didn't hear that from me

DATE NIGHT DATE NIGHT DATE NIGHT

THRIVES OFF OF DATE NIGHT

LOVES TO HOLD YOUR HAND AND SQUISH YOU AND KISS YOU AND MAKE SURE EVERYONE KNOWS YOU'RE HIS S/O

DOESN'T CARE WHERE YOU GO AS LONG AS HE DOESN'T HAVE TO LET GO OF YOU

AVID baby/babe user

will use love, honey, sweetheart when its soft bokuto hours

babydoll? ah fuck, its free real estate for bokuto the property investor!

this man, this man who drinks his RESPECT juice every day is HEAD OVER HEELS for you

he WORSHIPS you

its definitely also a body worship kink

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popculturebuffet · 5 years ago

Conversation

Meet The Parent

Huey: Soooo what are your parents like

Violet: A university professor and a researcher... both very logical people.. both suprisingly accepting about my magic research. After all science is all about accepting the unknown once you have hard evidence. What's your mother like? I mean i've done research, and as far as I can tell she's some sort of man child who tries her best. But sometimes research can be wrong... that's my way of trying to be nice about it because it's my boyfriend's mother.

Huey: (Sighs) It's fine, I know how you are. It's part of what makes you adorable. As for how accurate that is... follow me. (Leads her to the kitchen where Della is currently chugging an entire can of Cheez Whiz while Dewey cheers her on and Louie plays on his phone)

Dewey: Go go go go go go go go go go go!

Della: (Notices the kids are here and gulps it) Hi huey. HIIII violet. Huey's told me a lot about you. Like a vulcan but purple.

Violet: Accurate.

Huey: I had more detail than that

Louie: I know I had to listen to you write it. it was my own personal hell.

Della: Oh sweetie.. your own personal hell will be far worse than that... I mean you haven't been to hell yet have you?

Louie: Not yet but I expect to end up there.

Violet: I do research both when enterting awkard social situations and when meeting someone who I have respect for. You do both.

Della: Oh yay. I am pretty amazing. (burps loudly)

Huey: HA HA... moommm why don't you tell her about anything, anything please god anything to distract from that.

Della:Well I live with an alien.

Donald: (Off screen) on my boat!

Della: you can learn to share! and I could fly before I could walk.

Violet: That's .. improbable, but given this family unsurprising. Give me something unsuual

Della: I once roomed with the goodess of the moon but it was less rooming and more marathon

Huey: OKAY THANK YOU MOM.

Louie: (Slowly realizes what was about to happen) MOM NO. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR BONING HISTORY

Webby: (From under the table) I can't unhear it

Della: .... you got my other diaries didn't you

Webby: Yup

Violet: Webbigail why are you under the table.

Webby: I'm NOT stealing more of della's hair for my collection.

Della: I told you you could have it if you just asked.

Huey: (curls up in the fetal position) Hello darkness my old friend.

Violet: Huey I was webbigail's friend for as solid two months and yours for a solid month before we started dating. I knew what I was getting into. Plus I researched your mother. She is not subtle.

Della: Nope, not even slightly.

Violet: (pats him reassuringly) I like you. I"m an honest person. I would've let you know if this bothered me.

Huey: ... I know I just panic because I haven't.. succeded here before. The two of them succeded more by accident than I have on purpose.

Louie: True story. But it dosen't mean you have to panic.

Della: And I would've tried. I had a whole brainy routine worked up. I even got glasses. (Puts on some glasses) Science, Test tubes. Beakers. Of Mice and men. Picard. PIcard. Picarrrddd.

Dewey: That's what I hear every time Huey opens his mouth.

Violet: .. Please never do that again. The point is your mom is a delight and so are you.

Huey: (Gets up) Okay thank you and uh sorry

Violet: no need... and uh. (hugs)

Huey: (Hugs her back)

Della: Awwwwwww

Dewey: (plays aww studio audience sound effect on his phone)

Della: .... i've never been so proud of you three.

Louie: but I haven't done anything.

Della: So Proud...

#violet and huey #huey duck #violet sabrewing #della duck #donald duck #louie duck #dewey duck #webby vanderquack

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queenkaneko · 6 years ago

Text

Choosing Sides

Pairing: Logan x MC (Ellie)

Word Count: 1155

A/N: I wrote this short little one shot a while ago and I decided to finally post it. I got the idea from the wonderful @brightpinkpeppercorn and our late night ROD discussions. Love you, Mar!!

Summary: Tired of being caught between love and family, Ellie is pushed to a breaking point after saying goodbye to Logan and chooses a side.

Ellie watched, tears still streaming down her face, as Logan backed away into the shadows. This moment couldn’t possibly be worse, it didn’t feel like her heart was breaking, it felt like it was following him. Every step took more and more of her with him. The cool nighttime breeze made her feel suddenly chilled to the bone without Logan’s arms around her. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the distinct click of her father’s service pistol broke the silence of the night. Ellie’s blood turned to ice, her heart in her throat as she turned to see her father aiming a gun at Logan, fury in his eyes. At first, her whole body went tense, frozen in place. Her emotions raced through her mind, reaching a boiling point. Dimly, she heard Logan call her name behind her but Ellie kept her eyes on her father.

All at once the events of the last 48 hours flashed across her eyes, remembering everything that had happened between prom and this moment. The Brotherhood, Jason, using her as bait for the man she loved. Ruining her prom, shooting Mona, being chased down the damned freeway just to escape the influence of a cop gone mad with power. Seeing the detective badge glinting at her dad’s chest made her blood boil. She’d just said the most painful goodbye of her life so she could go back to being what he wanted, and he had to have heard some of it, only to pull a gun on Logan anyway. After she’d told him she loved Logan this morning in the kitchen, he had to know what this was doing to her, what he was making her do. “How long were you listening!?” She yelled at him, nearly screeching as her emotions took over.

“Long enough.” Her dad replied, never taking his eyes off Logan. Ellie balled her hands into fists at her sides. She glanced back at Logan and saw that he wasn’t making a move to surrender or run. He just stood there, calmly staring at the gun pointed in his direction.

Taking a deep, calming breath that did nothing to cool her rage, Ellie turned back to her dad, stepping in front of the gun and meeting her dad’s eyes. “You still can’t listen to me, can you?” Her voice shook with pain and rage. It finally dawned on her, he would never accept her as she was. There would be no fixing this, not when he couldn’t respect her. “Well, listen to me now. If you want to shoot him, you’ll have to shoot me first.”

Logan stared at the back of her head, willing her not to do this but afraid to move and spook the man holding the gun when Ellie was in front of it. He didn’t think her dad would shoot her, but her life wasn’t something he was going to gamble with. “Ellie, don’t do this.” He pleaded, whispering behind her.

Ellie ignored him, staring her father down. After a tense moment, he put the gun down but didn’t holster it. “Ellie, you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t love him, you’re too young to know what love is.” He was almost pleading with her, the anger in his face turning to desperation.

“I don’t know what I’m doing? I don’t love him? You don’t get to decide that for me, dad!” Ellie pushed a hand through her hair, laughing humorlessly. “You think I’m too young? You met mom in high school! You were younger than me!” The hypocrisy hit her like a wall, remembering her mother’s story of how her parents had met during their junior year of high school. “Are you saying you didn’t love mom?”

Ellie’s dad flinched as if she’d slapped him. Talking about her mom was always touchy, even now. She knew how to get to him, how to make him listen even when he didn’t want to hear the words. “Of course I did.” He whispered, his eyes searching Ellie’s he started to protest but closed his mouth with a sigh.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ellie turned her head slightly to address Logan, never taking her eyes off her dad. “Logan back up and get into your car. I’ve got this.” She saw Logan hesitate out of the corner of her eye before he began slowly backing toward his car. Ellie followed step for step with him making a wall between him and her dad. She spoke to the detective now. “I didn't want it to come to this. I nearly died twice tonight trying to avoid this exact situation. But Jason wasn’t the only one manipulating me. You know you can’t forgive me, you can’t love this version of me, you won’t even try.” She was almost to the car now, Logan was behind her, climbing in the driver’s seat. Once the door was shut, Ellie walked over to the passenger side of his Devore GT and put a hand on the door handle. “I wasn’t the only one who changed when mom died. She wouldn’t recognize either of us. You don’t have the right to make me choose between love and family. And I do love Logan, even if you don’t think I should, or could.” With that, Ellie opened the door and slid inside, without looking back at her dad. He yelled after her, still holding his gun in one hand as he started pacing down the lawn toward them. Once the door was shut, Ellie turned to Logan. “Get me out of here. Please.” She begged, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Logan hesitated for a split second, and took off into the night. Detective Wheeler stood dumbfounded on the street behind them, watching the car speed away in a blur. Once the were out of sight, Logan looked over at Ellie, taking her hand in his. “This is what you want? You’re sure?” He knew better than to try to talk her out of anything she set her mind to by now, but he worried that her emotions were running high right now and later she’d regret leaving with him. Running with him.

Ellie looked out the window of his car, watching the houses and palm trees whiz by, cursing her dad for making her choose between them. Leaving him wasn’t easy, she really did love her dad, but she needed him to love her the way she was, not the way he wanted her to be. She was so damn tired of trying to please everyone around her, and until her dad could learn to love her for who she was, she’d stay with the one person who had. Logan. Ellie didn’t look at him when she answered but she squeezed his hand tightly. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Her voice was stronger now, determined. Logan nodded once and sped up, heading out of L.A.

Tags: @poeticscolt @nazariortega @lovehugsandcandy @courtesan-of-garage @client-327 @choicesarehard

(Tagging people I thought would be interested. Feel free to ignore this.)

#choices #choices rod #pixelberry #playchoices #logan x mc #mine

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turtleduckdog · 6 years ago

Text

“She’s trying! And that’s what matter’s” and so is Huey

I have been thinking about Della’s return and how her children reacted in “Nothing can Stop Della Duck”. I don’t think anyone was surprised by Dewey’s reaction and his total acceptance of her return, I loved it! I also was not surprised by Louie’s reaction and glad that they went there, and I am looking forward to seeing that storyline developed more, especially since we know that Louie is going to have some interactions with Goldie (wake me up when September starts!).

But I want to talk about Huey, not going to say that I didn’t expect him to react the way he did, I love that he vets this strange lady with a series of questions. Her answer to the third one is what convinces him that this person is who she says she is. But for Huey, I feel that her being a Jr. Woodchuck is where his certainty of her ends.

He is uncertain about having cake at night because he typically doesn’t have sugar that late, and we see why, (I wonder if sugar is just avoided in his diet as he is very sensitive to it. This whole time I thought it was because of Dewey…). Huey reasons that it’s okay to have cake because it’s not everyday that your mom comes home after being on the moon for ten years, and I am sure Huey had no regrets eating that cake; but poor Della, thinking that she is sharing a treat with her kids and sees that maybe, maybe not, not the best first activity. (Della, I salute you and your channeling of Marie Antoinette and “Letting” them eat cake. I was a volunteer at a youth camp over the winter and I was all for letting the young people have a really rich dessert after 9 pm, I was vetoed by the more experienced leaders, RESPECT! Della Duck is showing me how to be a better youth leader by giving her kids cake that late so that I see the consequences for future camps.) She takes it like a champ though, and I must say, for not baking anything in ten years, she is quite impressive in the kitchen, not enough credit is given here. When I would go away for military training for months at a time, they feed you on base, and I would come home and have to remember how to cook for myself. So Della is a total whiz in the kitchen.

During the story Della tells, Huey is not really having any of it. He is trying so hard to enjoy this moment and listen, but throughout the whole telling he is smiling awkward and sort of looks like he wishes he was listening to the “Pea and the Peacock”. He suggests that they leave the lights on for the remainder of the night after the story. Later in the episode he exclaims that his nightmares have come true when he sees his mom fighting the Gilded Man, I think he sleeps with the lights on again that night.

Huey doesn’t actually want to slide down the banister on a shield, but he wants to please his mom (if you read my post about Ducktales, Dogs and Drive I mention that Huey has pack drive and dogs with pack drive are very eager to please their handlers. I feel that this is a perfect example of Huey wanting to please his mom, even though he is uncertain; he is going to try because she is his mom and he does trust her, but I wouldn’t say completely, as Della says to him “...And you probably won’t die!”). Now I will argue that Della was totally going to let them go down that banister without any safety equipment (and if you disagree, please refer to the next episode where Dewey free solo’s up a wall over a deep dark pit. She totally has a wake up call in this moment, but she needs to see Dewey deweying it to recognize that it’s unsafe and it’s an awesome moment!). Huey is not the free soloing type and thus runs off and gets his helmet and elbow and knee pads (I bet he hides them in the knight armour as well). This is a distinct difference in how Huey and Della approach situations and I can see it setting up for a bit of conflict between them. In “The Most Dangerous Game Night” episode Huey mentions that mom got hurt because she went alone, when he presumed that Della was dead, it was probably easier to accept, and I wonder if Huey will bring that up with her, because now he can ask her why she did it, why did she ignore basic safety. Huey is very safety aware, and since he has the pack drive we know that Huey totally believes in the “safety in numbers” idea and so I feel that he will have a hard time accepting that she got on that rocket by herself. I’m not convinced that the reason she went is clear. It’s been suggested that she was just looking for the next big adventure, and I totally accept that story, but I do wonder if there is more to it than that.

Huey and Della share a love for the Jr. Woodchucks, but I don’t think that Della and Huey are the same kind of Jr. Woodchuck. We know that Huey is a stickler for the rules and the JWG is more than a book that accompanies a youth program, for Huey, it’s how he interprets his reality. The Jr. Woodchucks has been a stable force for Huey, and in my head canon I suspected that Huey would learn about his mother’s disappearance and learn that she too was a Jr. Woodchuck and he would have a crisis of confidence. We don’t know what kind of Jr. Woodchuck Della is, we know that like Huey it’s important to her, but I don’t think that it has been the same kind of support for her that it is for Huey (I could be totally wrong about that and that would be a really awesome development). I get a sense that Della follows her own rules when the situation demands it (um, duh!); and this might be the lesson that she brings to her oldest son by three seconds.

#della duck #huey duck #cake #ducktales #nothing can stop della duck

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aprettystrangeblog · 7 years ago

Note

So I’m all for IronStrange but like what about Peter and Stephen bonding (platonic of course)??? Like, I’d love to see the Levitation Cloak wrap itself around Peter when he’s saying something dorky or Stephen conjure up a portal and get him to the Avengers tower when he starts messing with ancient relics inside the Sanctum

When Stephen first meets Peter, he’s kind of unsure of the kid

But he quickly learns how sincere and loyal and determined he really is– more determined than half the team, honestly– and Stephen seriously respects that.

Peter’s fascinated with Strange, and asks him a million and one questions about magic and sorcerers and other dimensions whenever they’re together

It’s kind of irritating at first, but after a week it becomes nothing but endearing

And Stephen’s happy to talk and laugh and explain everything to Peter. He’s bright and curious and understanding, and being around the kid makes Stephen feel… at ease, honestly.

Peter almost has an excited meltdown when Strange first asks if Peter would like to come visit the Sanctum

Peter definitely has a meltdown when he knocks over a quarter of the artifacts in the Sanctum

But Stephen simply shakes his head with a smile and reassures Peter that he knocks things over all the time too when his hands start shaking badly. He shows a delighted Peter a fixing spell to repair anything that was broke, and the kid’s worries seem to melt away

(Peter still tries to fix everything else he knocked over, though. Stephen still can’t figure out how to unstick the mass of Scotch Tape Peter wrapped around the Ring of Relinquishment. It’s been weeks.)

Peter’s invited back whenever he chooses

He often shows up to read in Stephen’s library after school, and Stephen sits beside him to help with any homework he has trouble with. He’s a whiz at anything related to science or math, but tends to struggle with history and english. Peter’s eyes always grow to the size of the moon every time Stephen pulls some dusty, ancient tome out of thin air to look up the answer to some convoluted European History essay question

(Stephen could just as easily get up and fetch the book from the shelf– really, it’s kind of extra to open a portal for it– but he loves the amazed looks Peter give him whenever he does casual magic in front of him)

Peter likes to drop by on days he gets out of school early, lugging a take-out bag behind him, and eat lunch with Stephen on the balcony. They chit-chat and share the latest gossip and Peter teaches Stephen Gen-Z slang and humor

One afternoon Peter casually mentions getting picked on, and Stephen whips around, drops his takeout container, and immediately teaches the kid a simple trick for tripping people when they least expect it

“And if If anyone EVER hurts you, give me a name and I promise they’ll be trapped in their locker until they apologize.”

Another afternoon they scrutinize each other from across the table, and mutually decide that they need to figure out how the other’s powers/suits work out of curiosity

And that’s how Stephen ends up covering his own Sanctum in webbing that takes hours to clear away as Peter laughs unhelpfully in the background

(It’s also how Peter ends up on the roof after the Cloak drops him there unceremoniously)

But anyhow when the weather’s nice and they’re not at the Sanctum and Peter has time away from school and superhero-ing, Stephen likes to take him window shopping

They make a game out of coming up with the most ridiculous disguises possible so they won’t get recognized in public

And they never really end up buying anything, but it’s fun to just walk and talk and point out cool things in display windows they pass by

But occasionally Stephen relents, opens a sneaky portal to snag some spare change from Tony, and the two of them buy the most ridiculously terrible thing available in the mall that day

One time they find a paperweight in the shape of a nude Iron Man bust and they absolutely lose it in the back of the office supply store

Peter gift-wraps it and it mysteriously appears on Tony’s desk the next morning

The two hide around the corner from Tony’s office and try to hold back laughter as they listen to him yelling as he opens it

(It’s still sitting on Tony’s desk to this day, holding down any papers that Stephen or Peter give him)

In contrast to Tony, the overprotective dad, Stephen is 100% the Cool Dad

I mean, he’d still kick in anyone’s face in that tries to touch Peter

But sometimes Peter calls him at one (1) am like “Strange? Could you open a quick portal somewhere for me? No questions asked?” and Stephen is silent for a moment and then replies “As long as you have your suit, wallet, condoms, and some pepper spray. Be home by the time school starts. Have fun.”

The one time Peter doesn’t show back up by Stephen’s stated time he learns how petty a magic dad can be

He tries to sneak back into the kitchen around six am, only to find Stephen sitting cross-legged at the table with May and a steaming mug of tea.

“You see May? I told you he’d be back. He just likes visiting a certain friend of his in the dead of night. I made sure he had condoms, don’t worry.”

“MR. STRANGE–”

Honestly though, despite the chagrin, Stephen’s the one Peter goes to for difficult or embarrassing conversations as well

Stephen always manages to be calm, unconcerned, and understanding even if it’s really weird or completely and totally embarrassing

And Stephen’s always ready to be a supportive dad with a fresh mug of tea whenever Peter comes around

Their favorite thing to do is come up with ways to irritate Tony

One time they solemnly agree to speak to Stark in only rhyming prose and Tony nearly loses it with them after this goes on for a solid day and a half

And when Tony’s having a bad day they show up wearing matching “We Love Iron Man!” sweatshirts and give him a group hug

Or just chant “you’re our hero!” outside his window until he agrees to come out of his lab and have lunch downtown with them

Bonus:

Peter definitely wears stupid shirts with sayings like “my dad is a sorcerer” on them, and any Doctor Strange merch he can scrounge up as well

He definitely dresses up as Strange for Halloween and Strange dumps and entire bowl of candy on him

#ironstrange #stephen strange #peter parker #spiderman #doctor strange #superfamily #supreme family #strangefamily #mischief manages #writing #asks #request

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Saviour

Summary: Saving your life was a risk Minhyun tried to avoid taking. He wasn’t prepared to have you enter his world, but for some reason he didn’t want to let you go either, and this confused you the longer you were in his company.

Characters: Hwang Minhyun x reader

Genre: vampire au

Warnings: angst / almost death experience

A/N: So I knew I needed a soft vampire this week, and who better than Hwang Minhyun? You guys sick of how much I write him? No? Me either! I will warn you … he doesn’t sparkle, but perhaps he’s a litttttle cringey like Edward Cullen? I hope not. But I couldn’t help a couple of references to Twilight and Beauty and the Beast in this piece. I had a lot of fun with this story, and I hope you do reading it.

This idea stems from a short vampire piece I wrote called Banish. It’s not relevant to read first, but I’ve linked it if you would like to afterwards.

Word count: 5609

He wasn’t going to interfere.

After all, it looked like the wolves that had you trapped wanted to be fed too, and they had done well at pursuing you into this clearing, surrounding you on all sides. Minhyun was far too ravenous and today was his own hunting day. He didn’t need the further complications of helping you and dealing with the five wolves. You weren’t really much of a meal for that many anyways. They would still be hungry after devouring you and he didn’t like wolves and their pack mentality at the best of times, let alone when still not full from eating. The last human he had saved from them only tried to get him killed for who he was, horrified even after all he had gone through to save him that a vampire had so much as touched them.

It was then when he swore he wouldn’t help another human again.

It wasn’t exactly easy for him either. Humans were delicious, but he preferred to avoid them. Minhyun remembered being human once, many decades ago. He would sometimes think back to his juvenile dreams for his life before it was stolen and traded for immortality. He didn’t like what happened to him, and he had no desire in following the same footsteps as his own murderer had. And most of the time, given it was the modern age; Minhyun could have a civilised glass of blood with his dinner from one of the many blood banks that supplied his clan.

But there were times where the beast inside of him needed a stretch, to do what mother nature intended best. And so he would once every few months hunt down an animal or two, just to satiate his need to dominate his meal. Of course, he hadn’t planned to run into this scenario today.

Watching from within the trees that surrounded the clearing, Minhyun winced as the leader signalled for a couple of younger wolves to leap at you, his underlings doing the hard work for the others first. They enclosed on you as you screamed, begging for your life to be saved. It took all of his strength to turn away and not watch on, swallowing roughly as his morals started to rise up in his chest.

Should a vampire still be controlled by such humanlike characteristics? All the others in his clan weren’t as hesitant when it came to humans. They respected them, but they also wouldn’t allow precious blood to seep into the soil like Minhyun was now. Your cries were easing off; more so because you had little energy to do anything but focus on breathing through the immense pain you were in. He could tell they dogs were having their fun with you now, and he willed himself to walk off, to leave them to their meal and let you die.

And with a loud groan he was moving, but not in the way he had been convincing himself to go. Running across the field, the wolves were alerted to his approach, the leader having watched him for some time in the tree line. Blocking him from their meal, three of the wolves tried to encircle him and he sighed heavily, rolling up a sleeve of his jacket.

“Why do you always think you’re superior because you travel together?” he asked, eyeing them as he finished rolling up the second sleeve.

It was futile to do such a thing when he knew his whole outfit would be covered in blood at some point. All the same it was a symbol of dominance and the biggest of the three chuckled at the idea he could win over them. It was him who he sent flying first, his yelp filling the field as he fell to the ground with a bone crushing thud. In a similar manner, Minhyun deftly made his way around the pack, leaving the leader for last. Unlike the others who he killed with strength, he sunk his teeth into his neck, drinking his meal like the wild animal he was right now. The thrill of adrenalin and the taste of blood was euphoric, as he sank to his knees enjoying his fill. He panted for some time when he was done with the dog, wiping the blood running down his chin as he eyed you from nearby. Although he drank more than he usually did, it still was hard to hold back from rushing to you and ending your life. From where he knelt, he could see your injuries were extensive, they had attacked in a way that would have you dead very soon.

It took further strength than he had used in some time given how intoxicating you smelt to scoop you up in his arms. You were now unconscious and your head lolled to the side in your new position, exposing your neck to him. Minhyun stared for only a second at the beautiful carotid artery in your neck before he sped home and laid you down in the guest room. Standing over top of you, he reminded himself one more time that he was insane to have come this far with you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he spoke softly, half pleading with you as he bit into his wrist and let a couple drops of his blood fall into the large wound over your stomach. Satisfied that your healing would begin, he stepped out of the room and closed the door, trying his hardest not to turn around and take your life as his own.

You were certain you were dreaming. You remembered the wolves, the way they had ripped at you in that field. Your screams still echoed in your mind, and the blackness that you fell into felt cold, yet strong. At one point you believed you were flying, whizzing through the forest in the delirious state between life and death. And then you felt the searing pain all too well as you slipped into nothingness. There you stayed for what felt like days, your heavy eyelids struggling to open and show you a room that you had never seen before.

And so this had to be a dream, because you had died in that forest clearing.

Yet why did you still feel very much so alive? The bed you laid upon was soft and plush, encasing you in comfort that eased all your aches and pains from the attack. As you sat up, you marvelled at how much it hurt to do so, wasn’t death meant to remove all the pain in your body? In every dream you had before you had never felt pain like this before either.

Your eyes scanned the room. It was without any personal touches, housing little furniture and very clean. As you continued your look around it, you noticed a bowl on the nightstand and a cloth resting on the side of it. You frowned; it looked so needlessly out of place. It appeared the type of thing you would put beside someone who you were nursing through a fever, and you lifted your hand to your forehead, feeling weak in the progress but no temperature seemed present. It was then that you noticed the cuff of the man’s shirt, your eyes widening at the disappearance of your clothes.

“Why am I like this?” you wondered aloud, easing yourself off the bed and padding over to the mirror upon the wall. You gasped at the bruises that were deep shades of purple and a discolouring green edged some of them, indicating they were no longer fresh. You looked like hell. Glancing down at your clothes, or lack thereof, and then at the door, you decided to search the place some more for answers.

Upon stepping over the threshold, you were in the middle of a hallway, two further doors to the right of you and an opening to the left. It felt more welcoming to head that way and so you slowly made your way down the hallway, ignoring the bruises on your legs that no doubt were the reason they felt so shaky. You were greeted with a living area, as tidy as the rest of the house appeared, blinking a couple of times as you watched a robot vacuum whiz over the wooden floors in the methodical way. You looked ahead and noticed the space shifted into the dining area with a table that only seated two, and you assumed the kitchen was around the corner. Your eyes turned to the large windows on the wall beside you, admiring a garden of roses and a manicured lawn that boasted a small water fountain in the middle.

You were definitely in the wrong place.

This was all too lush from your normal shabby and cramped up studio apartment, which you had never had time to clean enough from working four jobs to make ends meet. This was like a fairytale, the type of home you saw in Beauty and the Beast, smiling to yourself as you continued to eye the roses appreciatively.

But there was no sign of the living and it unnerved you to be so alone. Rubbing gently at your arms as you felt loneliness seep in, you moved up into the dining room, stopping as you noticed there was a further door hidden to the side.

You were definitely feeling like Belle now, entering a library that spanned up to the ceiling in books. Your eyes soaked them in excitedly, some titles standing out more than others, as you made your way around the room slowly.

And then your eyes connected with a deep set of umber orbs, staring back at you with an intensity that you couldn’t quite decipher. He was beautiful in a way that no man should be. His face alone was one that you had never seen before, so flawless and pretty, yet there was a definite masculine undertone to the shape of his jaw line. His eyes were feline shaped, which entranced you the longer you felt them upon you. And then you noticed his mouth was moving, but you couldn’t quite understand him due to being so overwhelmed. He stood up from behind the desk and you blinked, he was unnecessarily tall, his broad shoulders and long legs complimented with a slender torso. You were unhinged by such beauty, and completely unaware of the danger that exuded from the man.

He didn’t move, but his head tilted to the side, and you realised his mouth was no longer talking. You blinked rapidly and shook off your stupor. “I… I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m here.”

“I brought you here,” he confirmed and you gasped, his voice wasn’t what you were expecting. He seemed amused at how affected you were, but kept his distance. “Do you feel better now?”

“Hm?” You gazed dumbfounded at him for a moment and then looked down at yourself, flinching at how you looked in comparison. You were instantly embarrassed, your eyes wide and avoiding his. “Oh uh, yes, I think I’m fine. I think.”

“Are you sure?” There was a hint of amusement and your hands flew to the end of the shirt and pressed it further into your thighs, even though it made you wince. He coughed then, and you glanced up just in time for his eyes to immediately fall away from staring at what you had done. For some reason it eased you to see him react that way.

“Am I dead?” you asked, hoping for the first time since you woke up that this was very real. It would be just your luck someone as gorgeous as him would be something your mind conjured up.

“You almost were,” he said softly, looking as if he wanted to move around the desk, but kept himself where he was reluctantly. “But you look much better now.”

“But, I was certain-”

“I saved you,” he admitted, looking somewhat embarrassed despite the lack of a blush. He rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced towards one of the vast bookcases on the wall. “I happened to be out in the forest too, and once the wolves were gone, I picked you up and brought you here.”

It simply wasn’t plausible. Your mind hazily went back to the start of your nightmare, counting several wolves. You knew they wouldn’t leave you; they had started chasing you as soon as you had made the wrong turn in heading back to your campsite where you were staying with some friends. There had only been two in the beginning, but they herded you until you were trapped in the clearing. Looking back at the man before you, whilst he seemed to have strong arms, you doubted he could save you from so many wolves and still look that perfect. Either he discovered you after the wolves perhaps found something further to interest them, or there was more to the story. And with the look he was giving you, it wasn’t long until you believed he wasn’t telling you everything.

“Are you hungry?” he asked suddenly, rounding the desk so fast and getting to the door before you could even respond. Did he really walk that fast? He looked uneasy, and perhaps since you were still disorientated, he had walked normally but your mind was still stuck on the problem over his rescuing. You smiled a little, nodding and following him out the door.

The man looked at ease in the kitchen, preparing your meal with an efficient silence. He had directed you to sit down before starting and you did so, watching him for some time before questions grew inside of you. “What is your name?”

“Minhyun.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“How lovely,” he mentioned with a small smile playing on his lips, tilting his head again as if that allowed him to hear your name more clearly into his soul. His own seemed to fit him well, and you were pleased to have something to call him by.

Plausible or not, if he had saved you then you would be indebted to him for some time, and want to make sure you could do so pleasantly.

The meal was soon served up in front of you, and you barely looked at it before you inhaled it. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it was hot, you were certain there was some beef in there, and most importantly it was delicious.

“You seem to have a nice appetite,” he said with a smile as you placed your utensils down, and you blushed, the colour on your cheeks seeming to entrance him. You had noticed it earlier too when you were embarrassed, and you wonder why blood rushing to your face would entice someone to stare like that.

Your mere thought was enough to somehow trigger Minhyun to blink rapidly and look away, grabbing the dishes from you and taking them to the kitchen. You got up to help him but he held out a hand, shaking his head a little. “Please, go rest. I can easily clean this up.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and shot you a quick, but very warming smile. “You’re my guest.”

You had remained a guest at Minhyun’s home now for two months. You hadn’t meant to stay so long, at first he insisted you stay until the bruises healed. And then when your skin was clear, he mentioned due to the snow outside it was too dangerous to head back into the city. After that, you had come down with a cold from going out too many times to see the winter roses up close, and spent much time in your bedroom resting with Minhyun checking in on you every few hours. And now, well you didn’t know what was keeping you here, but you were reluctant to leave.

You didn’t want the dream to stop. Deep down you had fallen in love with the reserved intellectual, fascinated by the way his mind worked, by how much you had in common over book choices, and the quiet lifestyle here at the edge of the forest was one that you had always wanted to live. It was what brought you camping all that time ago, escaping the pollution and the bustle of the city, away from your less than ideal life. Here you were free to be how you pleased without caring about where your next meal would come from.

You weren’t a freeloader though, and shortly after insisting you pay for your keep, Minhyun gave you tasks around his home in exchange for his delicious cooking. You still felt like you had the advantage, but he would always chastise you if you ever brought it up. Secretly you believed he had been lonely until your arrival, and you hoped that the reason he kept you here was because he would miss you as much as you knew you’d miss him.

You wished you could live like this forever.

The longer you were in his company, some things started to confuse you though. How he would eat little, but drink red wine every night. He wouldn’t let you drink it either, your glass only ever filled with water, or sometimes a freshly squeezed juice he would often make you. How he would never need to leave for a job, yet could afford to have large cartons of groceries or new clothes for you delivered to the house. How he would insist you go to bed precisely at 10pm every night and if you would struggle you would suddenly be hit with so much exhaustion it felt unnatural with how quickly it settled in. Your relationship was now comfortable, and although he still maintained his distance; he was much closer than he had been in the beginning. Whenever you got too close however, he would distract you enough to move away, or step back and avoid your gaze.

Minhyun was such a puzzle for you, but you were determined to figure him out. You prayed you hadn’t built something up in your chest for your saviour that wouldn’t be reciprocated.

Your rescue frequently played on your mind too. It still didn’t seem right that Minhyun had easily taken you back to his home from what you remembered. Sometimes you would dream that he was more than a human. It fitted so many of his little quirks, and made you at ease with how he had managed to save you. In your slumber you were certain you had seen him cross the clearing, sent the wolves flying with unbelievable strength and sunk sharp fangs into the neck of another before coming to your side. Whenever you woke up from these fantastical events, you would shake off the foolishness. You already felt like this was like Beauty and the Beast, you didn’t need to add in Twilight as well. It made you giggle thinking of the protagonists in both stories sharing almost the same name though. Some days you would wish your name was Bella too; Minhyun seemed almost too good to be true.

But without any sign of his skin sparkling, and the fact that he would be up day and night, your vampire theory was untested and frankly made you feel juvenile. If you caught yourself unable to shake off the feeling though, and stared at him trying to find his canines pointed or other vamparish signals, Minhyun would get up and avoid you for the rest of the day. Not only did you feel stupid, but he was punishing you by keeping out of your company. You tried to rein in that behaviour quickly.

You were curious though. He knew all about you, but you hardly knew about his past, or what his goals in life were. Minhyun would simply say things like “to see the roses bloom often” or “living here in the forest” as his goals. But you knew there had to be more to a person and their life wishes. It was almost as if he didn’t wish to live but existed for the simple pleasures that surrounded him.

Which is why you were shocked at the arrival of someone new. He was just as handsome as Minhyun was, entering the home and confusing you how he managed to make it through the thickly nestled snow outside. Minhyun didn’t seem as confused, greeting the man with a smile and hug.

You didn’t know why you felt so jealous of two men hugging, but the idea that Minhyun’s arms hadn’t once wrapped around you soon answered the envy you were experiencing.

“What brings you here?” Minhyun asked with delight, your own eyes growing smaller as you pursed your lips together in annoyance.

“I was in the area,” the other man mentioned and you scoffed at the absurdity of his statement, both men turning to look at you. As your face flushed with colour at their attention, you noticed a similar expression in the newcomer’s face that you often saw Minhyun do when you blushed. He then turned to give silent judgement to his friend. Minhyun was all too quick at ushering him into the living room and away from you. Following slowly, you kept your distance, but the man smiled at you and gestured for you to sit in an armchair nearby. Minhyun was rigid with your presence and you half wondered if you should go to your room instead. “Please, sit won’t you?”

You finally did as requested by the new man and clasped your hands together in your lap.

“What is your name?”

“It’s Y/N,” Minhyun answered and you glared at him for speaking on your behalf. Minhyun sighed and finally took a seat next to his friend. “Jonghyun-hyung, you need to give more warning when you plan to visit.”

“Why, so you could hide the human?” The sentence was far too casual, and yet your eyes widened with it, Minhyun freezing beside him. Jonghyun laughed and if you hadn’t of been so shocked, it would have sounded like a beautiful melody to your ears. “You know I would have smelt her blood from miles away, why bother.”

“H-hyung, stop.”

“Did she not realise you weren’t human too?” Jonghyun enquired, both talking as if you weren’t in the room.

You cleared your throat and spoke quietly. “I did realise.”

Minhyun’s eyes snapped onto yours and stared for an immeasurable time, only blinking away when Jonghyun laughed. “Are you not going to offer me a drink?”

“Y/N, perhaps for tonight you could go to your room?” Minhyun said, though you knew it was a request. Nodding to him, despite Jonghyun’s opposite response, you got up and took yourself off to your bedroom, sitting in the dark and revelling in what you had heard.

Did she not realise you weren’t human too? The puzzle had been somewhat solved, yet you weren’t satisfied. You hoped that whatever spell Minhyun placed over you at night would hurry and reach you so you could rest through all the racing within your mind.

When you woke it was early morning. You were used to rising early from having your first job delivering papers and milk start before the sun was up, and normally you would wait in your room until the light brightened through your curtains. Instead you climbed out of your bed, changed quietly into your outfit for the day, and opened your door as softly as you could. The idea was soon pointless as you remembered the night before.

Did she not realise you weren’t human too?

If Minhyun was what you thought he was, he would be able to hear everything you did, even the beating of your own heart from the other end of the house. You swallowed, hoping the noise wasn’t too loud for this time of morning. Venturing into the living area of the house, you found signs of the friends drinking many glasses of their specific red wine by the uncharacteristically messy scene on the coffee table, and you edged up into the library, closing the door behind you and stopping in your tracks when you found Minhyun at his desk reading a book under the lamp light.

Did he never use his own bedroom, you wondered as you cautiously stepped forward into your favourite room in his house. He glanced up at you when you were close enough and sighed. “Stop there.”

“I guess you rise early too?”

Minhyun gave you another of his confusing stares and avoided answering; soon turning his head back to the text in front of him.

It irked you. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Did you have a need to know? You were perfectly happy here with me regardless.”

“Whilst that’s true, you knew I was curious too. I have so many questions, and you were truly going to leave me guessing over them forever, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, you knew deep down he had no desire in sharing himself with you. It hurt you to realise how little Minhyun thought of you, and you bit back your emotions for only a moment. He was watching you from the corner of his eyes and they widened when he saw your new resolve. “When the snow melts, I’ll leave.”

“Is, is that what you want?” he asked hesitantly, refusing to catch your gaze. He was making it impossible for you to breathe. You had hoped the sentence would make him react in some other way. Perhaps the romantic in you had given you the foolish notion that he’d beg you to stay. This was more of an angst storyline than you had given it credit in the past.

“I don’t want to be a burden for your lifestyle anymore,” you answered, hoping that throwing it back on him would make his stone like face shift away from the way he was holding it now.

It didn’t, although he graced you with a single nod of his head. “Very well then.”

You spent the rest of your day in your room, mostly numb from your encounter. You refused breakfast and lunch. By dinner there was a knock at your door and nothing else, your head peering out soon after to find a meal on a tray sitting outside your door. And for the next couple of days whilst Jonghyun visited that’s how you lived. Trapped in the small confines of your room, eating alone, ruminating far too much, and becoming entirely depressed. Your fairytale had found its way into reality, and you had forgotten how cruel life had always been to you in the past.

When you saw Jonghyun heading down the pathway where the snow had begun to melt, you were saddened. Not only had you spent all this time away from the pair, and had very little knowledge over Jonghyun, the ease of how he travelled meant you didn’t have long until your own departure. You began making lists of what you needed to pack.

It was during this time that you realised you wanted to take the book you had loved the most in the library back with you. You were certain Minhyun would allow you that much, given how often he teased you for loving it so much. He practically placed it within your hands whenever you entered the library; the feeling of the leather covering alone was comforting enough. After an hour of deliberating over how to request the book, you finally got up and opened the door, rocking back on your heels as Minhyun stood resting against the opposite wall, the book within his grasp.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “So you can read minds as well, how fitting.”

Extending the book to you, Minhyun eyed you carefully, his gaze not leaving yours even when you held what you wanted within your arms. It unnerved you the way he didn’t relinquish you as easily as the book and it took much effort for you to tear your own away. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he started, and you willed yourself not to travel back to his face. Your eyes only listened somewhat and you stared at his chest instead. It didn’t appear to move like yours and you laughed inwardly, wondering why you had never picked that up in your many searches. Minhyun sighed. “I made an effort to look humanlike to you.”

His chest started rising and falling again and it made you smile a little.

“Will you listen to me?”

“Did you want to hear me?” you asked instead, finally allowing your eyes to find his again.

He nodded. “Every word, every thought, everything.”

“But you would let me be unknowing of this.”

“How was I meant to explain it to you?” He huffed in frustration, showing the emotion for the first time in front of you. It surprised you with how worked up he was becoming. “When you woke up, I was relieved that you had lived after all. You almost died more than once whilst I treated you. And then you were just so happy. You smiled at everything. It was like everything around you was so magical to you.”

He moved forward, and you blinked, this was as close as Minhyun had ever been to you. Glancing up at him, you waited for him to continue.

“You were settled, telling you I was… that I am-”

“That you are a vampire,” you mentioned softly and he stopped moving altogether, frozen by the admission of what he was. You smiled gently as you looked up at him. “You were worried I would run away?”

“Everyone else has,” he managed, breathing a little heavily despite not needing to. It comforted you all the same. “I helped someone in the past; he tried to get me killed even though I saved him. I promised myself I wouldn’t help another human, but you were just laying there dying and I couldn’t turn away from you. And then I liked having you here too much to lose you. I guess I still am though.”

“Do you want me to stay?” you whispered and Minhyun blinked a couple of times. You knew you had to continue before your emotions rose too much. “I was only leaving because I thought you didn’t care for me like I care about you.”

“Of course I care about you, do you know how tantalising your blood’s scent is to me? How difficult it was to not eat you myself when I was healing you? How whenever you blush all I want to do is feel the warmth of your cheeks in my cold hands? Y/N, the idea of me not caring about you is so far from the truth. I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t. It was my way of protecting you from all of this.”

“All of what?”

“Of me,” he replied, and you shifted closer to him, Minhyun’s eyes widening. You could feel the texture of his sweater on your hand now, and even you were nervous being this close. Not because of what he was, but in case he rejected what you wanted to do. Glancing up at Minhyun, you then grabbed one of his hands and guided it up to your cheek. He gasped a little once you let him go, but thankfully he didn’t pull away, instead his other hand reached for the side of your neck, his thumb lightly running circles on your jaw line.

“I trust you,” you told him and that was enough to convince Minhyun to lower his head to yours so fast that you had little time to blink. You had always imagined this kiss. Given his reserved nature, you had thought it would be slow, his lips barely brushing against yours. However he was pressing into your mouth, kissing you with such passion that your knees felt weak. You gripped at his sweater to hold yourself up as the kiss deepened and you couldn’t help but smile into it either. It was better than any fantasy you had over his lips.

When he pulled away you were thankful, since it was getting hard to breathe. He seemed to realise that he had sucked the air out of your lungs and sheepishly smiled at you before resting his head on yours. “Sorry, I just, I wanted that for so long.”

“Don’t apologise, I could have pulled back sooner too, I just didn’t want to.”

Minhyun chuckled. “Now I have to learn a new level of control when it comes to you.”

“Oh?”

He shifted back enough to gaze into your eyes. “All this time I’ve held back because I wanted this so much. Now, I’ll have to work on restraining myself because I’ve tasted you once and it’ll be all I want to do.”

It made you giddy to hear how honest he felt about you. Smiling, you reached up to peck his lips lightly before settling back on your feet. “Thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t I wouldn’t have experienced something so wonderful.”

“Kissing a vampire is wonderful to you?” he asked and you laughed lightly.

“Loving you regardless of what you are is what I am thankful for.”

The look in his eyes was so unbridled that you barely prepared before another whirlwind kiss was taking over you completely. It seemed that there was a lot you needed to learn about Minhyun. But that was okay, because you had all the time in the world now that you weren’t leaving his side.

________________

Welcome to Frightful October, a collab between myself and @this-song-thats-only-for-you … this week’s theme is Bloodlust! To follow more of the stories check out the links below:

Other stories in Bloodlust: Deal / Saviour / Culmination / His Salvation

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prettyfunkyunorganized · 6 years ago

Text

Sugar Daddy Hanzo part 7

Hey there everyone! Another chapter all ready for you. Some set up for the next part and some struggles with how much you want your man back.

And btw, thanks for answering my question last time! It was super fun to see your responses! :D

Around 4,300 words today. Enjoy!

BTW, this whole business world AU is based on my bud @watch-your-grammer‘s post here. She’s glorious and so is her work.

The rest of the story: pt one, pt two, pt three, pt four, pt five, pt six

Saturdays were supposed to be relaxing – not a clusterfuck, but here you were, half tacking on another day to the workweek and half trying to get your best friend’s baby shower in order. And all the way losing your shit.

“What the hell do you mean Clarissa’s Cupcakes pulled out on us,” you fumed at your phone as you tried to dig through your desk for the to-do list that just kept growing and growing.

“Yeah,” Jules said slowly, “they canceled on us.”

“We paid upfront for that stupid reservation! What the hell happened?”

“They said someone else made them a better offer or something. The whole place is closed for the day for a private party, dude. We’re kinda boned,” Jules said, sounding pretty damn dejected for her, but at least that meant she was taking this seriously.

You heaved a long sigh and thought a moment. “Okay, okay. That’s okay. We’ll figure something else out. If all else fails, we can have the party at one of our places. Mags will be fine with that.”

“As long as it's not mine, I’m cool with that,” Jules agreed, going right back to optimistic fast enough to give you emotional whiplash.

“Why not yours,” you asked, “you’ve got that great dining and kitchen area. I’ll help you get it ready as soon as I’m done here.”

“About that,” she laughed, “I’m in the middle of a job, and my creative process is uh, messy, as you know. And this time the subject matter is sorta graphic. Like aliens with tentacles that have teeth graphic.”

Having one of your besties be an animatronic whiz and well-respected movie monster creator was great around Halloween. Right now, not so much.

“Well fuck. Nicole will never let that many people she doesn’t know in her place, so I guess my apartment it is,” you groaned.

“No offense babe, but your place is pretty small for that. I could try to clean my stuff up some, I guess, but the alien herself ain’t going nowhere right now.”

“No, no,” you sighed, “I got it. I’ll move some stuff around and rig up some more seating. Just hope I can get home in time.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and you knew what was coming next. A scolding. “You better not be where I think you are,” Jules said in her most grown-up tone.

“Um,” you hesitated.

“Good freakin’ gods woman! That job is bleeding you dry! You gotta stop letting them treat you like this.” She sounded more disappointed than angry, which stung plenty.

“I know, I know, but you know me, I work hard! It’s what I do. It’s important.”

“Lovebug,” Jules said gently, calling you by your childhood nickname to get her point across, “I know your mom and dad always told you that, but working yourself into a pit isn’t good either. Especially since that company doesn’t appreciate you and all you do. You could be doing so much better! You’ve got enough big-name clients that you should absolutely have more than that cheap little cubicle. You work with fucking Lucio himself, girl! That’s big-time shit!”

“I – I know,” you fumbled, “but there aren’t any openings here for a better position. I’ve just got to wait it out.”

“You ought to ask for a raise,” Jules snorted.

“Yeah, probably,” you huffed, rubbing your temple. “I don’t know why I can stand up to Hanzo like I did but going up to my superiors here at work seems daunting – even though I know I deserve more.”

“Because your parents taught you to value your career more than relationships and you’re still internally trying to please them despite the fact that you know they’re unhealthy and unhappy,” Jules said frankly. “Childhood psychological shit, it’ll get you every time.”

“No kidding,” you laughed, taking a moment to close your eyes and remind yourself that you were so much more than just your job.

“I know you’re not going to just blow off work,” Jules said, “but don’t go crazy today, alright? We have a party to get to! And the world won’t end just because you left some stuff to be done on Monday.”

“That much I can do,” you agreed, “thanks, Jules.”

“No problem. I don’t have many wise moments, but when I do, I’m more than happy to share them.”

“Maybe you ought to share some weed with me next week to get rid of the nerves before I go ask my boss for a raise,” you suggested, only partially joking.

“Holy fuck yes! Yes! Babe, let’s do it! Nicole can give you one of her hardcore pep talks and Mags can make you feel all good and shit! Fuck yeah! This is happening. I’ve decided.”

“Oh dear god what have I started,” you giggled.

“This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Jules, love, I dig the excitement, but we have other things to focus on right now. If I get my place ready for the party can you get food?”

“Sure thing,” she said nonchalantly, “snacks are basically my specialty. I’ve got a caterer that owes me a favor, too.”

“Awesome, thanks, Jules. I’ll talk to you later. Keep me in the loop.”

“Yup. You just get done with stupid-ass work, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

You spent the next few hours toiling away at work, mostly alone at the office once again. Jules was right, you did have a problem. Thankfully, your phone buzzed, reminding you that time was in fact passing and you had other, much more enjoyable things to do.

‘Hey the caterer needs to get into your place soon to drop off goodies. You home?’

It was Jules. Who would be all over you for still being at work. “Fuck,” you hissed before typing a simple, ‘No.’

‘Da faq girl,” she replied.

‘I’m getting decorations and shit,’ you lied.

‘Oh. Cool. You do you. Just get home soon, k?’

‘Yep,’ you sent back, realizing you had dug yourself into a hole. Now you had to decorate, get home, and make your place presentable in a much too small window of time. Frantically, you called Nicole to see if she could help, but no she was still at the vet with her pup. Maggie’s mother could open the door for the caterer, but then she’d freak out about how ‘dirty’ the place was and start stressing and cleaning everything – or, even worse, tattle to your parents about ‘the state of that place!’ There was Maggie’s mother-in-law, but she was something of an attention whore and a snob who would undoubtedly make up some dramatic story about having to go to some ‘tacky shop’ for ‘tacky décor’ and how she did ‘the absolute best she could under the circumstances.’

No.

You were not listening to that on your day off.

Well, your day almost off.

As you scrolled through your contact list trying to find someone to help, a sudden text popped up. From Hanzo, no less.

“Huh,” you said frowning at his name. An image of him trying to pick out baby shower do-dads came to mind and made you cackle. “Oh hell no, I’m not asking him to do that, no matter how great the blackmail would be if I got pictures. Not that I could ever see the need to blackmail him.”

Since the morning at the coffee shop, you and Hanzo had done exactly as you had agreed upon. You were civil, spoke on occasion, and played nice. He was always respectful and appreciative of any time you gave him, but the tension was still there. At times, you would sill times get shudder including memories of that night he terrified you in that parking lot, but you were starting to see that part of him less and less with each conversation. Most of the time when he reached out to you, it was for a bit of advice or asking about something he’d read. He was a voracious reader now, it seemed, devouring anything he could get his hands on about overcoming mental obstacles. That seemed to be his new safe space – where he retreated when he was having a setback or had done something he deemed to be wrong.

He was being too hard on himself, you knew that, but there was only so much you could do while keeping an appropriate distance.

It was hard not to go to him and run your fingers through his hair, whispering soft reassurances.

The sadness that often coated his voice when you spoke on the phone made your stomach twist.

But this was his battle, and he would fight it in his own way. He had others to help him along the way, and he wasn’t your responsibility.

Hanzo was, however, always saying that he wanted to repay your kindness, so maybe you could ask him for a favor. Friend to friend.

You called him up before you could chicken out and waited rather impatiently for him to pick up.

“Hello,” he said, surprise and unease in his tone.

“Oh thank goodness,” you sighed. “Hey, Hanzo it’s me.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, “is something wrong?”

“What? No,” you replied in confusion. “Why would there be?”

“No reason,” he explained, “I was just not expecting a call. Usually, I am the one asking if I may bother you with a phone call.”

“Right,” you said laughing awkwardly, “well, the thing is, I sorta need some help.”

“What can I do,” he asked gravely. You could see his pensive face so clearly in your mind. It made you smile.

“Chill, Hanzo, I’m fine. It’s a little thing really, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“I am glad to hear you are alright and I am of course happy to help however I can,” he said softly. That damn voice of his was going to be the death of you.

“So, the gals and I are throwing Mags a baby shower,” you began.

“I see,” Hanzo said worriedly.

“Calm down,” you snorted, “you don’t have to come or anything, I just need someone to unlock the door for the people bringing food.”

“Ah, well, that I can most certainly do. Is there a spare key I should use nearby?”

“Yeah. It’s in a little magnetized box under the ridge of the big metal planter to the left of the door. If you can’t find it, give me a text.” You grabbed your purse and headed to the stairs.

“I will,” Hanzo said, evidently still taking this quite seriously, “but something has just occurred to me.”

“What’s that?”

“I have never been to your apartment,” he said, making you stop and frown.

“Well I’ll be damned, you haven’t. Whoops. I’ll text you the address in a sec, just leaving work.”

“My, my,” he said with a small chuckle, “your dedication is admirable.”

“That’s not what my friends say,” you grumbled.

“Why is that?”

“I may have a slight problem with balance,” you admitted sheepishly, “but I’m working on it. I do have a tendency to throw myself into the office when I’m stressed about other things, though.”

“Did I cause that reaction this time,” he asked gently.

In all honesty, yes, you were still dealing with the repercussions of taking on too much work to distract yourself after you and Hanzo broke it off, but he wasn’t the only cause. “Nah, it’s more me. I need to stop this pattern I always get myself into. I’ve basically buried myself in paperwork this time.”

“I can relate,” Hanzo hummed out, sounding stressed. As usual. “Do try to take care of yourself, though, will you? I – I worry. I know you are capable and independent, but . . . nonetheless.”

You shut your eyes tightly at the twinge in your heart. He could be so sweet. Sometimes. “Just, um, let me know if you need anything else, okay? I gotta go get some stuff.”

Hanzo cleared his throat tensely. “You have my word.”

“Thanks, Hanzo. Bye.” You let out an abysmal groan as soon as you hung up. “Why does he have to make it so hard to not like him?!”

Darting through the nearest party supply store like a tornado did wonders to take Hanzo off your mind – if there was anything in this world that absolutely did not remind you of that man, it was pink streamers and glitter – but seeing him standing next to your open doorway brought a wave of emotions you really didn’t have time to deal with.

You’d never seen him dress so . . . casually before. And . . .

Damn.

“Hey,” you called to him, cursing the way your voice broke. Christ, it was like you were back in high school, fawning over an upperclassman. At least this time he didn’t have swoopy hair. You had such terrible taste back then.

Well, maybe you still did, but that was a thought for another day.

“Hello,” he said with a smile. You looked him up and down as two people carried in a few trays. “Is something the matter,” he asked when he caught you staring.

“Nope,” you said with a grin, “I just didn’t know you owned anything other than freshly pressed suits.”

“Yes, well,” he said flushing, “you called me while I was in the middle of . . . something.”

“Son of a – ” you hissed, “I’m sorry! I didn’t even ask if you were busy, did I? I didn’t mean to – ”

Hanzo reached over and took a few of the bags hanging from your arms. “Think nothing of it. You did not interrupt anything important.”

You ushered him in and set the mess of shopping bags down. “Thanks again for letting these guys in,” you said gesturing to the people arranging miniature cakes all over your countertop, “but you didn’t have to stick around if you have other things to do. They’re good people, totally trustworthy.”

“I thought it best to stay close just in case. Not because I doubted their professionalism, but to see if you needed anything else. Based on the amount of food these people have brought in, you have quite the event going on here,” he said eyeing the pile of appetizers.

“Maggie has seven sisters-in-law,” you explained, trying not to grimace.

“Honto?! I cannott imagine,” Hanzo reeled.

You giggled, “Neither can I! I’ve always had such a small family, having ten in a household seems like hell to me.”

“Agreed,” Hanzo murmured, shaking his head.

“Anyway,” you said, smiling at him, “I should be fine. I’ve still got an hour to put up some decorations and tidy up a bit before the other girls get here to help me finish up. We got this.”

“Then I will leave you to it,” Hanzo said with a small bow before heading back to the hall.

“Wait,” you blurted, not really knowing why you’d said it. He turned back to you and waited.

Your face went hot as you rushed over to the kitchen and plucked a peach topped cake for him. “Here,” you said handing it to him, “for your trouble.”

“That is not necessary,” he said kindly, giving you an impossibly tender look, “I am simply glad I could help, and for a chance to see you.”

This was the first time you had seen each other face to face since that day at the coffee shop. He looked good, and not just because he always looked good. There was a sort of calm about him, as if maybe he wasn’t so bogged down by everything anymore. A proper therapist could do that.

You were happy for him. He deserved some progress, to not be alone and attacking himself all the time. You truly believed that.

And you also knew he had a sweet tooth as bad as yours.

“Take it,” you said, grabbing his hand and placing the little square napkin in his palm. “I know you want to.”

He grinned. “I can only say so to buttercream frosting so many times. Thank you, and enjoy your party. It sounds like you could use some fun.”

“I will. Take care, Hanzo.”

“I shall do my best,” he said with a nod, “and by the way, I like your home. It is, hmm, ‘warm’, I suppose is the word am looking for. Or perhaps safe. I never quite understood how to navigate that line between ‘house’ and ‘home,’ but you certainly have.”

Something about that sentence made you pout involuntarily as your heart dropped.

“Not that I mean to be looking for sympathy,” Hanzo said quickly, “I meant it as a compliment! I should not have made that comment about me, I apologize.”

The blush he got. It was too much.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said wavering a little closer to him. “I’m flattered that you like my place. Here I thought it might not be fancy or cleaned up enough for you.”

He scoffed, “Please, my own maid thinks I am a bit too much of a ‘neat freak.’ I know not everyone has my uncanny need to have everything polished.”

“Yeah, I don’t polish anything,” you laughed, walking him to the elevator, “but I probably should be more on top of the dishes.”

Hanzo shrugged, “If I did not have someone tidying up for me, I would likely be the same way. Or I would just eat out more often, I am not sure which.”

You parted ways with a wave that left you feeling unsatisfied. It was as if your skin was itching for his touch.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned, “I gotta get over this guy.”

The party came and went, Hanzo’s piercing eyes lingering in your mind when you weren’t occupied. You had thought you were over this dumb puppy dog love stage weeks ago, but evidently not. Maybe it was seeing the way Maggie and her wife got along that made you feel like this. Or seeing a new family being started in front of you. Or maybe it was just loneliness. Once everyone had left the house you were on your own again, wishing you had someone to vent to about your boss emailing you about picking up another coworker’s slack.

“I always get like this when I’m tired,” you tried to assure yourself, “I’ll get over it. All I need is a shower and some proper sleep. And maybe for my boss to stop being a shitlord.”

Soon, you were settled on the couch hair up in a microfiber towel and your fluffiest robe around your shoulders. You felt better, yes, but you couldn’t help but think about snuggling up in Hanzo’s wide-collared hoodie from earlier today.

“Why are boy hoodies always the best,” you asked the universe, slightly perturbed at this unwarranted slight the fashion industry had given your gender.

Your ringtone went off, and you swiped your phone from the coffee table. Hanzo again.

Now the universe was really being a dick.

‘I hope everything went well tonight,’ he had sent. ‘I forgot to mention that I set your key by the sink. One of the caterers saw where you had hidden it, so you may want to find another location just to be safe, but that may just be my paranoia at work.’

“Worrywart,” you snickered before sending back, ‘Yes I saw it. Thanks. Good idea. And yeah, we had a good time. A few hiccups, but I handled it.’

‘Hiccups? Is everything alright?’

‘There was a small soon-to-be-Grandma fight, and Bruce Wayne peed on one of my plants, but that’s all.’

It took him longer to respond than usual, but then a confused, ‘Bruce Wayne? The Batman alter ego,’ came through. You laughed and snuggled deeper into your cushions.

‘Nicole’s dog has a solemn looking face and very pointy little ears that make him look like Batman, hence the name. Gotta admit, I’m a little surprised you knew that name of the top of your head, or did you Google it,’ you teased.

‘Genji told me. He says hello,’ Hanzo admitted.

Half a second later Hanzo was calling you. “Um, yeah,” you said into the receiver.

“I told you she would pick up,” Genji said, sounding as if he were straining.

“And I asked you not to call her,” you barely heard Hanzo say. “It is late, and she has had a long day.”

“Well then maybe you should not have texted her,” Genji replied jokingly.

“That is different,” Hanzo griped. It was nice to hear them acting like normal brothers.

“What is going on,” you asked as a smile crossed your face.

“I stole Hanzo’s phone so I could talk to you,” Genji explained, “and now he is trying to get it back, but I am faster.”

There was a slew of angry Japanese that made Genji burst out laughing. “That sounds like a dangerous game you’re playing, Genji,” you giggled. “Was there a reason you called, or are you just torturing your big bro.”

“Meh, a little of column A, a little of column B,” he replied.

“Perhaps I should just call Mercy as retaliation,” you heard Hanzo say in a voice so devious you had to add a dramatic gasp to the conversation.

“WHAT,” Genji yelped, “and when did – how did you get my phone?!”

“I always took my stealth studies more seriously than you did, brother,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Damn it,” Genji said defeatedly, “okay, fine, I will give it back, but before I do, I wanted to invite your lovely friend here to a party I am having next week. Everyone at Overwatch adored you, and we would love to have you there if that would not be too awkward.”

“You want to invite me,” you clarified.

“But of course,” Genji all but sang. “It is just a casual little thing for a few friends I throw every year. Hanzo made it sound like you could use a night out, maybe one that involves less Grandmothers – no offense to your baby shower guests.”

“Just how much did Hanzo tell you,” you asked, feigning skepticism.

“I am nosy,” Genji said flatly.

“Indeed you are,” Hanzo barked.

“So will you come? I promise it will be a good time.” It sounded like the younger Shimada was almost begging you to join them.

“No funny business,” you asked apprehensively.

“Not at all.”

“And I won’t have to worry about people looking down their noses at me?”

“If anyone does I will show them the door,” Genji said.

“And you know I’m not coming as your brother’s date,” you said, a bit quieter.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, less excitement in his voice.

“Well . . . alright, I’ll come,” you agreed, not entirely sure this was a good idea considering how much you were already pining over Hanzo.

“That is fantastic news,” Genji said, “the others will be delighted to – Hey! Hanzo! I was not done with that!”

“Pardon the interruption,” Hanzo said, noises coming through the earpiece that sounded like he was holding his brother away with his other arm, “but you really do not have to come if you do not wish to. Do not let my brother pester you into joining us.”

“I don’t mind,” you said honestly, “it would be nice to see Lena and the others again.”

“There will be liquor,” Hanzo hinted, “not that I need to partake but – ”

“Why is liquor a problem,” Genji asked.

Hanzo sighed deeply. “She does not want to be around me when I drink after that night I hurt her.”

“That,” Genji started, then took a long pause. “Well, to be candid that is a very rational decision, and I approve of her looking out for herself.”

“As do I,” Hanzo agreed.

“I can still hardly believe you ruined such a good thing,” Genji lamented.

“Do not start with me tonight,” Hanzo groaned, “please? I assure you I cannot feel any worse than I already do. Just seeing her makes me – ”

“Ahem,” you said loudly, “I’m still here, you know.”

“Sorry,” the two brothers said simultaneously.

“Look, I don’t have to come to this shindig of yours if it’s going to complicate things. I’m fine,” you said with a shrug.

“No,” Hanzo said gingerly, “if you would like to come, that would be lovely. I do not need to drink that night.”

“I don’t mean to spoil your fun or anything,” you said awkwardly. You suddenly felt like a controlling girlfriend, only you weren’t his girlfriend. But you were just trying to look out for yourself . . .

“You are not ruining anything,” Hanzo said kindly, “just the opposite, in fact. Come, enjoy yourself, and I promise I will not drink. I believe it will likely be good for me to prove to myself that I can be out with some coworkers and not need a bevy of drinks to get through.”

While he didn’t sound entirely convinced in his ability to do so, you had to agree that it might be a good step for him to take. “Alright, I’ll still come. If you’re sure you don’t mind, that is.”

“Not at all,” Hanzo said, “I will let you know the details when Genji finally decides on a theme.”

“Oh yeah,” Genji yelled, “it is a costume party, but you do not have to get too into it if you do not want to.”

“Good to know,” you laughed, “tell your goofy brother thanks for the invite, but I should start winding down for the night.”

“I will. Goodnight, my beau- ” He caught himself and coughed in embarrassment. “G-goodnight.”

He hung up before you could respond, making you wince. “Fu-uh-uh-uh-ck,” you wailed, smacking yourself in the forehead. “I really, really, really wish I didn’t still want to be his god-damned beauty.” Tears began to sting your eyes, and you weren’t sure they had formed out of anger, or longing.

@collinssie @watch-your-grammer @zarcake-writes @yesthisisbae @eebbapanda1 @deercapitate@missbumblina @skyrina@justjaaaay @thewetbones @skyelentnight@ilovebva @punk-dork @cbrokeherboobs @sobanoodledragon @sydniesamm@honeyburger @knightofsexyness @queenoflabyrinths @speakingishard@iknowimcutethanks @ninevast @ivymarquis @sydniesamm @barbie-the-centrist

** please let me know if you would like to be tagged or removed from the tags in future updates and sorry if I missed anyone, tumblr is being tumblr-y again**

#mine #overwatch #my drabble #overwatch drabble #hanzo x reader #hanzo #reader insert #sugar daddy hanzo

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melchixr · 7 years ago

Text

P.S. We Should Get A Dog

Anon Said: A one shot where Hans and Ernst have been dating and they want to get a pet but Ernst is a cat person and Hans is a dog person? (i’m saying Hanschen is the cat person because.... come on.... it’s obvious....pussy cat...)

Words: 1960

It started slowly, of course. At first, it was cute. Little post-its that Ernst put on the fridge before he left for work. Hanschen was so happy to see it when he woke up an hour after his boyfriend left. His vision was blurry, as he had hadn’t put in his contacts yet. (The only reason he had remembered to take them out to sleep was because of a post-it Ernst left on his bedside table)

But he noticed the bright yellow as he was making his morning tea. He extended his hand and by some miracle of depth perception, he pulled it off of their fridge, already littered with Ernst’s doodles and a thousand wedding invitations.

‘Dear Hansi-

Please pick up ice cream, we’re all out. Have a wonderful day off.

Love-Ernst

P.S. We should get a dog!’

Hanschen looked around the kitchen in his blurred vision. But he knew it so well already. He had practically been breathing down their Martha’s neck when he hired her to decorate their new house. It was the compromise he and Ernst found, between Ernst wanting to decorate it himself with fun paintings he had found at flea markets and mismatched rugs from yard sales, and Hanschen wanting to hire one of the high-end interior designer twinks that rolled in his stuck up scene.

So he knew every one of the 1,100 square feet of their penthouse. From the plush polyester-blend living room set, to their king size memory foam, to the print of The Great Wave off Kanagawa in their hallway.

Then, he thought of this precious penthouse becoming the giant litter box to some mutt. Dirty paws on his Indian rugs. Slobber all over his one hundred percent genuine leather ottoman. And fur. Fur EVERYWHERE.

The thought almost made him retch. So he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled on the back of Ernst’s adorable note.

‘Dear Ernst-

Hell no. I’ll get you the ice cream, but not the dog. I’m going out to lunch with Melchior so there will be come carne asada tacos in the fridge for you.

Begrudgingly- Hanschen ‘

But Ernst wasn’t having it. That Wednesday, when he came home from afternoon bible study, he was happy to see Hanschen reading in their living room. He tossed his notebooks to onto the kitchen table, kicked off his shoes and approached the young blond man.

“Hey there, Handsome,” He murmured. “How was work?”

He looked up from behind his old man reading glasses. “Heya Ernst. It was fine. How were the kiddos?”

“They’re great, Hansi.” He sat beside the man he loved and slowly wrapped his arms around Hanschen’s shoulders. “God, those kids are so smart. I didn’t expect a bunch of sixteen year olds to be able to analyze 1 John so deeply! You should really come one of these days.”

He was quick to shake his head and set down his copy of some boring book about World War One or something. “Ernst, I told you a million times. You can’t make me believe with your little study groups or your big, fancy church.”

“I don’t want you to believe. I gave up on that a while ago. I just want you to meet these brilliant kids,” He leaned over to rest his head on Hanschen’s shoulder, placing a gentle kiss over his thin dress shirt.

Hanschen nodded and pecked Ernst’s temple with his chapped lips. He then leaned back to rub his boyfriend's back. Even after three years, he still got a kick out of just laying around with Ernst. Just like when they first started dating in Hanschen’s junior year of college, all they did was lay around and cuddle.

Of course, they couldn’t go on dates at the time. Ernst was just finishing up getting his theology degree and there were already whispers around his cohorts that he might have been homosexual.

Some supported it, saying that God loved all his children and that God made Ernst this way. Other glanced at Ernst with judgemental eyes and whispered sinner under his breath. So he was quick to be sure that no one knew that he was not only gay, but madly in love with young finance major with Wall Street in his eyes and in his blood.

Now, they were safe. Safe to go out for coffee and hold each other’s hand. Safe to kiss on the subway. Safe to go on bad bowling dates where neither of them ever got higher than a seven. It had taken Ernst some time, but he did finally realize that the person who looks down on him and disrespects him because of his sexuality was not the person he wanted the respect of.

And they were safe to sit together in their home, wrapped up in each other with soft smiles. Ernst continued eagerly. “You really oughta meet Angie. She’s this chess whiz. Like I had to stop playing her because she kept beating me,” His face lit up as he remembered all the kids in his youth group. “Oh! And Ella! Ella is the funniest person you’ll ever meet! She and her boyfriend Eric are so sweet and so dedicated too. It’s really heartwarming to see them together.”

“Are we not heartwarming enough?” Hanschen asked with a laugh, rubbing his hand up and down Ernst's spine. Not only did it send literal tingles up his spine, but it made Ernst sink further into his seat and closer to Hanschen

He nodded in response and left a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s temple. “We’re plenty heartwarming, Hanschen. But those kids are cuter. Cause they’re not old like us.”

Ernst ignored Hanschen’s faux-offended gasp and stood up. His voice became very soft, almost curious. “Ella’s also got the cutest dog. I think her name is Phoebe. And she’s pregnant so they’ll be trying to give away her puppies in a few week-”

“God fucking no, Ernst,” Hanschen almost shouted to cut him off. Even though Ernst put on an innocent false, he could see the cogs in his brain working. And he was about to twist the hell out of Hanschen’s arm to get that puppy.

If there was one thing he knew about Ernst Robel, it was that when he wanted something, he’d do anything to get it. “I didn’t say anything!” He acted so soft and naive. “I’m just saying, do you want all those puppies homeless and sad and-”

“I don’t want the puppies homeless, but I want them in a home that isn't mine.”

“Ours,” Ernst corrected him as the shorter man stood up from his seat and aimless wanderer towards him.

“Of course it’s ours,” Hanschen assured and slowly wrapped his arms around Ernst from behind, letting his fingers fall over Ernst’s small waist and protruding hip bones. Finally, they found a home resting over his shallow stomach, feeling the slow movement of his breathing. “Dear, how about we get a cat instead? A cute little cat.”

Ernst turned his head a bit to cast a glare at the man holding him. “I thought you didn’t want a dog because they’re too messy. But cats are just as messy! If not worse. They piss in a box and get litter-”

“Maybe I’m just not a dog person, Ernst,” He replied and left a soft kiss on the side of Ernst’s neck. Ernst sighed and pressed back into his touch, already planning his next step.

Hanschen thought, after about a month had passed, that Ernst had dropped the subject. He prayed that there wouldn't be anymore “Dog Talk" as long as he lived.

Maybe cat talk. He could live with a cat in his life. He could imagine a pretty Siamese wandering around his hallway, joining him on the balcony for the orange he ate every morning. Or a gorgeous,slim black cat sticking it's paws under the door when he went to take a shower. Or a fat little tortoise shell crawling into his lap as he read the morning paper.

So when he came home from work that evening, he was ready too announce to Ernst that their family was about to grow by one. He was ready to scoop Ernst up in his arms and tell him that he was going to take the morning off tomorrow so that they could go adopt a cat and bring him home and pamper him

“Babe! Get out here! I wanna tell you something!” He called out to the vastness of their home. Almost immediately after opening the door, he heard Ernst’s footsteps sprinting down the hallway towards the living room. Barely a second later, another pair of footsteps followed him. They were fast and quick, accompanied by the click-clack of nails on their hardwood floor.

Ernst got the hall doorway a moment before the other feet. He had a sort of nervous smile on his face as he squeaked out. “Hi, Hans-"

Then the footsteps sprinted out from the the hallway and into the living room. Specifically, through Ernst’s long legs. The footsteps were those of a small mutt, with a light brown and white coat and two big blue eyes. It looked like a beagle, maybe mixed some spaniel. And she was absolutely adorable. But even that didn’t outweigh the shock Hanschen felt.

And Ernst could tell as he watched his boyfriend stare down at the puppy sniffing at him and barking his high pitched little yap. “Ernst, dear,” He said, slowly. His eyes never once left the dog. “What the HELL is this?

Ernst almost immediately sprinted to Hanschen’s side, scooping up the puppy in his arms, who immediately began licking Ernst’s face. It definitely liked Ernst a whole lot. “Babe, listen. She was practically homeless when I picked her up! Her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Please, baby. We have to keep her.” He immediately spurted out. Like he had been planning to say this all day.

For a few moments, there was silence. Hanschen stared at the dog in Ernst’s arms, her dumb wagging tail and her long, lolling tongue. “Ernst, you should have told me,” His voice came out stern and tired. Even though he could feel his heart soften at the puppy’s warm gaze, he couldn’t show Ernst. “We need to communicate before we make the commitment of a dog.”

“Baby, please,” Ernst pleaded, his eyes as wide as the dog’s. “Pleas, she needs a home. She-”

“I’m not heartless, Ernst. I’m not going to make you give her back.”

Upon hearing this, Ernst’s face lit up. It was like he was just told he had won the lottery. He began to smile the biggest, sweetest smile and began kissing the top of her head. Hanschen couldn’t help but smile back as he continued. “What’s her name then, Ernst. If she’s going to be in our family, she needs a name.”

“Hanschen, meet Igor,” He stated, holding the dog out to Hanschen as if offering the him all the love in the world. “Igor, this is Hanschen, your new dad.”

Hanschen slowly reached out, his hand hesitant before it landed on Igor’s soft fur. She began to wag her tail, almost like she was as nervous about Hanschen as he was about her. A moment later, he began rubbing behind her ears and all around her neck. Igor was already yapping with joy. “Hello there, Princess,” He sighed. He couldn’t help but coo lovingly at her big blue eyes. “And welcome home, you little vomit eating monster.”

“Wow. Good to know you’ve already bonded with her,” Ernst replied and pecked Hanschen’s cheek abruptly. “Because she’s gonna be sleeping in our bed.”

Hanschen’s hand froze on Igor’s head. “On my 950 thread-count cotton sheets?”

#hernst #hanschen #ernst #hanschen rilow #ernst robel #hanschen x ernst #hanschen/ernst #spring awakening fic #spring awakening #deaf west spring awakening #dwsa #sa #spring awakening fan fic #fic #fanfic #fan fiction

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ticklishhpickle · 7 years ago

Text

Even Santa Ships It

Summary: Phil wakes up the night before Christmas to find a sassy, sarcastic Christmas elf by the name of Dan in his kitchen, feet tangled up in Christmas lights and surrounded by gingerbread crumbs. Phil doesn’t mind.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: none

Read on AO3! ———-> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13078551

——————————————————————————————-

“OW!”

Phil Lester yelped as his hand came into contact with the hot tray. It was probably a bad idea to not wear oven mitts. He rushed over to the sink to cool his burnt hand, turning on the cold water to full blast. Santa better be grateful, he thought as the cool liquid soothed his skin. After a few minutes of wound care, Phil felt his hand was well enough to ice the cookies he had left haphazardly cooling in his mortal enemy- the tray, that was half hanging off the bench.

Phil smiled as he finished icing the 25th and last cookie of the batch. He looked at his work, the lines on the gingerbread mens’ arms were a little too squiggly, but the small eyes and mouths were drawn on quite well, if Phil did say so himself. He did this every year. He would bake 25 cookies for Santa every Christmas, changing the type of cookie from year to year. Last year was shortbread, the year before macaroon, and the year before that snickerdoodle.

Phil’s flatmate, Paul, along with the rest of his friends and family thought it was absolutely ridiculous that Phil carried out this tradition.

“28 is too old to still entertain this idea that Santa is real!” Paul would always say. “And it’s getting kind of sad for you to keep making these cookies every year, only for them to go to waste. I’m sure you just throw them all out in the morning before I wake up.”

Phil knew better than these non-believers, however. Each and every morning without fail, Phil would wake up to find the cookie plate completely wiped, and he knew for a fact he hadn’t eaten them himself, and there was no way Paul would dispose of or eat all the cookies just to keep Phil’s belief in Santa alive- he was Phil’s worst critique when it came to this tradition, and in addition, a devout vegan.

Phil pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. It was everyone else’s loss if they refused to believe in something that could guarantee them a nice gift and a bit more excitement in their life every year. Less work for Santa as well, anyway. Another Christmas eve would need to be added to the calendar in order for Santa to deliver gifts to believers and non-believers alike.

His musings had distracted him from the real job of cleaning up, so Phil made quick haste to clean all the flour of the counter. A dirty kitchen would not suffice for someone as amazing as Santa. After pouring a tall glass of almond milk(it was the only milk they had, Phil being lactose intolerant and Paul being a vegan) and placing it next to the cookies, Phil was satisfied and trudged upstairs to his bedroom, falling into a deep sleep.

It was only an hour or so later when Phil jumped awake, disturbed by the suspicious clattering downstairs. Phil groaned sleepily and attempted to fall back asleep, only to hear the clattering get louder. Wait. Phil thought. It’s Christmas! Could it be… Santa downstairs? Every other Christmas of Phil’s life, he had been good and slept through the night, despite the temptation to wake up and spy on the chubby man bringing him presents. But surely a peek wouldn’t hurt. Phil hesitated for a moment before hopping out of bed, nearly tripping over his plaid pyjama pants in the process.

Phil slowly crept to the top of the stairwell, cringing every time the floorboards squeaked a little.

He peered down, shaking with excitement to see the supposedly fat and white-haired man who had been bringing him presents every year without fail. What Phil did not expect to see was a mess of gingerbread pieces and crumbs covering the floor, several dented and poorly wrapped gifts spilling out of a sack, and an awkwardly tall figure who was attempting to wriggle his foot out of a string of Christmas lights. What the hell was going on?

Phil swiftly padded down the staircase and walked over to the figure.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?!”

Phil felt his heart skip a beat when the figure turned around. The first thing Phil noticed was the warm, brown eyes of the stranger, nearly covered by a swept brown fringe. The second thing and third things Phil noticed was the dark green pointed hat he wore, that did little to cover the long pointy ears attached to his head.

“Well, gee-whiz, you’re not even going to offer to help me? It’s not like, you know my feet are stuck in a pile of shitty dollar store lights, preventing me from moving.”

“Oh! Sorry about that!” Phil felt his face flush as he bent down to untangle the string of Christmas lights. He spent all of 10 seconds untangling the lights in silence before he realised.

“Wait. You never answered my question.” Phil eyed the admittedly good-looking stranger suspiciously.

“How impressive of you to have noticed!” The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes.

“You’re clearly not Santa, so who are you, and what are you doing in my flat?” Phil finished untangling the lights and stood up.

“Well what does it look like? I’m a fucking elf. You think I wear these candy stripe leggings because I like them?” Oh. Now Phil felt a bit stupid. The pointy ears alone should have been a dead giveaway from the start. Oops. Phil knew the reason he didn’t notice was probably because he was too distracted with the elf’s other facial features.

“Oh. That makes sense. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here, I’m 100% sure Santa’s the one who’s supposed to deliver all the presents on Christmas Eve…”

“Well Santa’s been a bit of a lazy little shit this year, it seems like.” Phil’s jaw dropped. Was he hearing this correctly? Weren’t Christmas elves supposed to be happy, bright and jovial, and most importantly, respectful of Santa claus?

“I’m not kidding. The jolly old man literally makes me do all the work for the London precinct.”

Phil found himself holding back giggles at this. The statement itself wasn’t really funny in nature, it was just the way the elf had said ‘literally’, which made it sound more like ‘litTRAlly’. And to hear one of Santa’s own elves sassing the big man himself, was quite an experience in itself.

The elf seemed pleased that Phil was amused, a genuine smile on his face. “And don’t even get me started on the things he does to those reindeer, I mean whipping stopped being relevant the second Fifty Shades was published.”

This time Phil could not stop the wave of laughter that overtook his body. He laughed the hardest he had in weeks, his sides feeling like they were splitting.

“Oh my god,” He muttered, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Seriously, who are you?” He shook his head at the ground, smiling.

“Dan. And don’t forget it.”

“So you’re telling me you, a literal Christmas elf got put on the naughty list? Is that even legal?”

Phil was astounded at the amazing stories Dan had been telling him for who knows how long. The two men- well the man and, one elf were sitting on Phil’s couch, indulging themselves in the gingerbread man Phil had so lovingly made before. To Phil’s surprise he and the sassy elf had quite a lot in common. They both liked Muse, Pokemon and agreed that memes were like pizza. When they were good, they were really good. And when they were bad, they were still pretty damn good.

“Yup. That’s Dan for you. And it literally wasn’t even intentional! I just- I kind of didn’t realise my earphones weren’t plugged into my phone, so Newborn was playing loud enough to wake up Santa- and all 37 other elves in the London precinct.”

Phil giggled for what had been probably the hundredth time that night, his tongue poking out of his teeth. He hated how it did that, it looked sooo stupid. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand, only to find Dan looking at him with a strange sort of fascination.

“Why do you cover your mouth whenever you laugh, Phil?” Dan’s eyes held something in them that Phil couldn’t name.

“Because I look stupid! My stupid tongue always pokes out of my teeth when I laugh, I look absolutely ridiculous.” Phil was even more embarrassed now, why did Dan have to ask him about that?

“I guess that’s something we don’t share a common opinion on then, hm?”

For the first time the entire night, an awkward silence fell over them. What was Phil supposed to say to that? Was that almost a compliment?!? Oh god. And they were having such a nice time too! Phil had taken to staring at the wall behind Dan when he heard someone padding down the stairs.

“PHILIP MICHAEL LESTER, who the hell is this and why is he in our house?” Paul exclaimed angrily, eyeing Dan up and down suspiciously. “And great cheap elf costume by the way, pfft.”

Don’t get him wrong, Phil loved his flatmate. It was just right now, he wouldn’t mind seeing the entirety of Paul and his sad existence burn in a wildfire.

“Paul! Don’t be rude! This is Dan, he’s an elf who’s been helping Santa out tonight. Santa’s too busy to visit all the houses in one night.” Phil knew this explanation would not satisfy Paul in the slightest, he was the biggest Santa/Christmas skeptic Phil knew.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Dan nodded casually, popping another piece of gingerbread man into his mouth.

Paul just glared at Phil disappointedly. “I’m going to give you one minute to admit that you hired an actor to play an elf, in order to convince me that the whole stupid Santa and Christmas elves thing is real, which you’ve been trying to do for the past five years.”

Phil was desperate to convince Paul of the truth, but he wasn’t sure how.

“No! Paul I didn’t hire anyone, you know I save all my money for new house plants, not this kind of stuff! He is a real elf!” Phil widened his eyes and stuck his bottom out a little. His pouty face always worked to soften Paul up a little, even in the worst situations.

“You can feel my ears if ya like, buddy. 100% real, they won’t come off.” Dan winked weirdly at Paul.

Phil wanted to slap Dan! Paul would not understand Dan’s weird, ironic but hilarious sense of humour. Wait, why was Phil acting as if he knew Dan’s humour well? They literally met a few hours ago, but for some reason it kinda felt like more. Phil decided not to dwell on it and instead focussed on Paul hesitantly stroking, and then pulling, rather harshly on Dan’s ears.

“FUCK OFF MATE!” Dan screeched when Paul gave a particularly hard tug.

“Alright fine, look, in the morning I’ll probably realise that it is just some really, really good silicon covering, but right now, I’m tired as shit and you know what Phil, if you say he’s an elf… he’s an elf. Anyway, who would wear those candy striped leggings willingly? Just try to keep it down please, Phil.” Paul sighed at the end of his small rant and plodded back up the stairs, leaving Dan and Phil alone again.

The awkward silence from before nearly settled back in before Dan broke it.

“So…”

“So… wait- don’t you have like at least, I don’t know, a few hundred other houses to deliver presents to?” Phil couldn’t believe he only just realised this, why was Dan wasting so much time with Phil, practically a stranger to him, when he had presents to deliver?

Dan looked like he had shit himself and been told he was adopted at the same time.

“Fuck.”

Phil poured himself a cup of hot chocolate and sighed. It had been a good few days since Christmas, and while the day itself was great, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the strangely tall, sarcastic he had met the other day. Phil would be lying to say that he kind of, may have wanted to get Dan’s number. What? You couldn’t blame him. Phil hadn’t connected with someone as well as he had with Dan for those few hours in… ever really. Maybe when he first met Paul, but that felt a lot more platonic, the difference here being he didn’t want to run his fingers through Paul’s hair, or cuddle him to sleep, or take him out for a cute movie date.

And now Phil was never going to see Dan again. Just great. It probably wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Phil tried to comfort himself. Elves must have very busy lives, there’s no way he would have time for a friendship with me, let alone a relationship if he even did turn out to be attracted to guys- which was unlikely. Phil just had to accept that he was probably not going to see Dan ever again. He plopped two white marshmallows into his now lukewarm hot chocolate and sighed once again.

Just as Phil was about to take his first sip of the beverage, a loud knock on the door interrupted him. Phil placed the mug back on the bench, before walking over. Phil swung the door open to reveal a very cute, and very drenched looking elf. Phil’s heart practically sang, was luck finally on his side for once?

“Dan! Hi! Come in! What are you doing here?” Phil tugged Dan in by the sleeve of his ridiculous elf outfit.

“Well, first of all, hi. And second of all, just a quick, run of the mill check, for the- the PSP.” Dan looked off to the side for a second before looking back at Phil, pulling out an official looking clipboard with papers.

“The what?”

“PSP. Present satisfaction policy. This year, Santa’s decided to implement a new, worldwide policy where we check on each person we’ve delivered a present to a few days after Christmas, just to make sure they’re enjoying the gift and putting it to good use. Sure, it will take up quite a bit of time, but personally, I think it’s a great idea.”

Something about what Dan was saying seemed off, but Phil couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Kind of like he was hiding something, but Phil didn’t want to question it. He was just happy to see Dan again.

“I have been putting the cactus Santa gave me to great use actually! Want to come look?” Phil beamed, hoping to persuade Dan to stay longer at his flat. He knew Dan probably had thousands more people to ask, but he was feeling a bit selfish, wanting to keep Dan to himself for a bit longer.

Dan nodded and smiled, the little dimple on his left cheek that Phil had noticed the first night showing a little. Phil smiled back.

“This cactus looks like a dick.” Dan snorted, trying (and failing) to hide his amusement at Phil’s Christmas gift.

“Well… usually I would fight it, but, you’re not wrong. At all.” Phil grinned at Dan again.

“This cactus certainly puts the SUCC in succulent, doesn’t it Philly?” The cheeky elf smirked at Phil, happily awaiting his reaction.

“Not as succulent as your MUM!” This time, both Dan and Phil were in hysterics. Phil had to hold his stomach to stop it from hurting so much from the laughter. After a few long minutes the boys finally calmed down, and a silence settled over them, but this time it was not awkward. Phil caught himself staring at Dan’s mouth, before blushing profusely and quickly averting his gaze. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“So um, what did you think of Paul?” Phil asked, in an attempt to get normal conversation flowing again.

A look of conflict flashed across Dan’s face, before it returned to normal. “Oh, he was, quite… interesting. I just love guys who pull on my ears until they bleed.” Dan’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, not that that was anything out of the ordinary.

“Look, Paul’s actually a cool guy, he’s just not the best with new people, especially when those people aren’t people and they are elves.” Phil shrugged apologetically.

“Oh, yeah, I get that.” Dan nodded understandably. “So, are you and Paul…?” The brown-haired boy looked a little nervous, and in Phil’s honest opinion, it was quite adorable.

“Oh, god no. We’re just best friends. And Paul’s as straight as a ruler. Why do you ask?” Phil scoffed at the idea of Paul and him dating. That would be the most disgusting thing in the history of the world. He shuddered.

“Pfft, no reason,” Dan’s eyes refused to meet Phil’s. Dan was quick to change the subject, Phil noticed.

“Anyway, did I ever tell you about the time I gifted an axe to a twelve year old for Christmas?”

Phil walked the streets of London in a great mood the next day. He had spent several hours with a particular elven friend the day before, just chatting, exchanging banter and learning all the intel on Santa claus and co. Apparently there was a different Christmas precinct for each city in the world, but only one Santa. He was practically skipping down the road, but who could blame him? He had the number of a cute boy (who was probably straight but that was besides the matter), knowledge of what the real Santa actually looked like (thanks to said cute boy), and cute boy was coming over to Phil’s for a round of video games in a few hours. So it really was Dan, not Phil’s fault when Phil skipped right into someone on the path.

Phil instinctively yelped when his butt hit the solid ground. That was going to leave a mark. He looked over to the person he bumped into and his eyes widened. The man, sprawled on the ground like a defenseless turtle was the one and only Santa Claus, looking exactly like the picture Dan showed him just a few days earlier. Same bald spot, same glasses, and same brown sweater Dan swore he wore religiously.

“Santa? Is that you?” Phil felt overjoyed! This was the man he had been relentlessly baking cookies for, ever since he was four years old. Was this even real?

Santa had stood up by now, looking very concerned and ready to bolt.

“H-how do you know it’s me? Is my disguise not working that well?” The man’s voice was rich and deep, just how Phil always imagined it to be. His disguise, however, had room for improvement to say the least. Wearing a brown jumper didn’t disguise the fact that he looked like the walking advertisement for literally every Christmas product ever. Phil did not say this however, who was he to insult his idol?

“Oh! No, it’s a great disguise. I only know it’s you because one of your elves showed me a photo of you the other day. But that’s not the point. The point is, I can’t believe I’ve finally met you after all these years! Do you know how many cookies I’ve baked for you? I change the type of cookie every year!” Phil gushed out, his inner fangirl screaming.

A look of recognition washed over the old man’s face, followed by pure, childlike glee.

“Yes! Little Phil Lester! You’ve been baking 25 cookies for me every year since you were four years old. Last year was shortbread, the year before was macaroons, and the year before that was snickerdoodles! Now son, I’m not just saying this, but your cookies are THE BEST cookies I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of cookies, I know, it may surprise you.” Santa nodded at Phil, obviously expecting him to nod back in agreement.

“And I love how you change the type of cookie every year! Do you know how sick I’m getting of chocolate chip? Could these kids BE any more basic with their cookie choices? You’ve done well, son.” Santa gave him a pat on the back, and Phil thought he might faint.

“Wow, Santa, I’m so glad you liked my cookies so much, I really do put so much effort into them. And I think it’s really great how you’ve started that present satisfaction policy, too! I think it will be really helpful, especially for kids who don’t always know what presents they want.”

Santa frowned, the lines in his forehead creasing up, and he cocked his head to the side. “Sorry son? What was this present policy you speak of?”

“You know, the policy you created to ensure maximum satisfaction of gifts where you send elves to check on everyone who’s been given a gift to make sure they like it?” Santa’s face still showed no signs of recognition, remaining creased and confused.

“Your elf Dan told me about it…” Phil trailed off awkwardly.

The corners of the old man’s lips turned up at the mention of Dan’s name. Something had clicked in his brain, Phil was sure of that. He just wasn’t sure what.

“Alright Philip, maybe you should speak to Dan about that, but I definitely did not impose any such policy of the sort.” He let out a hearty chuckle before patting Phil on the shoulder and walking away.

“And tell Dan Santa says to go for it!” he yelled, before turning the corner and disappearing.

Phil had never been more confused in his life. Why would Dan lie about something like that, especially when there wasn’t really anything he could gain from it? All he got from it was spending a few hours alone with Phil and- oh. Phil felt a blush creep up his neck and his heart swell. Surely it couldn’t though, what were the chances of the guy Phil was crushing on hard actually liking him back? Phil thought back to all the times Dan had blushed in his presence, or stared at Phil for a little too long, that Phil had previously chalked down to nervousness. Perhaps the chances weren’t as low as he had originally thought.

Phil was practically bursting at the seams with anticipation when Dan finally came over, video games in hand and a smile on his soft face. As soon as Phil had greeted him and seated him on the couch, he swooped.

“So I saw Santa today.”

“Ah, yes. In the picture on the back of your expired advent calendar, perhaps? Or maybe on the custom made bauble from the tree you still have up, even though Christmas was a week ago, Philly?” Dan quipped idly.

Phil shook his head. “No.” Oh boy was Dan in for a big treat.

“Actually, I saw him in the city today, I recognised him from the photo you showed me yesterday. Great guy, you know. He’s a big fan of my cookies.” Phil was giddy with excitement, his knees jittering.

The elf’s face showed no signs of worry, and he gestured at Phil to go on, still oblivious as to what was going to happen next.

“But you know what he isn’t Dan? The creator of the ‘Present Satisfaction Policy’. I think that title goes to you. And I think I know why.” Phil smirked. “It’s because you,” Phil tapped him on the nose, “Have a little crush on me, and wanted to see me again.”

Phil wasn’t exactly sure what reaction to expect from Dan, but it was definitely not what followed. Dan turned completely red in the face, his hands sweating profusely. There were a few seconds of painful silence before,

“Yeah cause I totally just made up a policy just so I could see you again, ‘cause I totally thought you were super cute when we met on Christmas Eve and just an overall lovely person and couldn’t NOT see you again.”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but Dan wasn’t finished.

“And as if I’d rant to ‘Santa’,” Dan used unnecessary air quotes when he said this, “about how ‘cute’ I thought you were, which led to him ‘convincing’ me to asking you ‘out’. Pffft, you know how stupid that sounds?”

“Um, what?”

For the first time, Phil saw Dan at a loss for words.

“Shit. I didn’t meant that. I don’t like you that way! If that’s, um what that made you think. I just tend to get a little carried away with my sarcasm sometimes.”

“Are you sure about that Dan?”

Dan looked at the ground, avoiding all eye contact with Phil.

“Yes…

“Because, if theoretically you did happen to have maybe even a tiny, little crush on me. I would theoretically tell you that I do in fact too, have a tiny, little crush on you too. And I wouldn’t mind taking you out, say, on a date sometime in the near future. This is all hypothetical though.”

“Okay I lied. I’m gay as shit for you.”

Phil grinned before tackling him into a hug.

“Me too, Dan. Me too.”

It was one hour later when Paul arrived back to the flat, groceries in both hands, only to find his roommate engaged in a heated makeout session with a Christmas elf. It was time to move out.

#phan #phanfiction #phan fluff #fluff #getting together #strangers to lovers #christmasphan #christmasfic #elf!dan #phanfic #phanfic fluff #ficmas

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collecting-stories · 7 years ago

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A Short Stay - Danny Whiz-bang

I'd love to see a Danny Whizz-Bang imagine. Like... Some fluff that ends in tragedy. Idk. I've been bored as of late and started to rewatch season1 @thinkingsofamadwoman

A Short Stay - Danny Whiz-bang

The bell tolled twice and you stood in black beside Tommy Shelby. Freddie Thorne had been round earlier in the morning, as you were getting Daniel dressed, to pay his respects. It was in the kitchen there, over a hot cup of tea that Freddie generously made for you, that reality had seemed to set in. This wasn’t the first funeral you had attended for your husband but this time he wasn’t hiding from Italians in London. This time he wouldn’t return home to you and Daniel.

Before the war, Danny Whiz-bang was brimming with confidence. More than Tommy or Freddie even. If Danny was in a room everyone knew it. You had been kids practically when he set his sights on you. Just sixteen and working for your father’s tailor shop, you and Danny crossed paths one afternoon when he brought in clothing for his mum. After that he seemed to come by the shop all the time. He’d have a rip in a pair of trousers or a shirt, once he brought you a jacket that looked as though he’d torn the sleeve off himself. You could always see Tommy or Freddie, occasionally even Arthur, glancing through the window as Danny chatted you up.

“I’ve told you what my dad says Danny.” It was the same reply every time he asked you to out. It was never a no, because, truth be told, you liked Danny a lot and you looked forward to seeing him at the shop everyday. But your dad thought he was no good. No child of his would date a Peaky Blinder.

“Yeah and it’s shit innit?” He replied, leaning against the counter. You were sat on the other side, busting stitching a blade into his cap.

Your dad didn’t like the Peaky Blinders, as they called themselves, but Tommy paid you good money under the table to sew razors into all the boys caps. You would’ve done it without the pay simply because it meant some extra time with Danny.

“He’ll be livid if he finds out.” You answered, glancing up at him. Danny was taller than most and had less meat on his bones than Freddie it seemed.

He shrugged, not bothered by the threat of your father. He stood up and stretched his back before leaning over again. “Just think about it would ya? We wouldn’t have to tell your dad."

"On Tuesday yeah, down by the water." You said, passing the cap across the counter to Danny.

He grabbed the cap, holding onto your hand as well. "Yeah, down by the water." He agreed, smiling at you.

Until the war broke out in France and England stepped in to help your relationship with Danny was just simple. Neither you or he went with anyone else but there was no progression toward anything too serious. No talks of marriage or children. You thought about those things and, unbeknownst to you, so did he, but you never spoke on it. Then he enlisted in the war.

He came by your father's shop, the way he always did, though this time looking more somber than usual. When you thought back on it you were sure that was the last time you saw him truly himself. He told you that he was going to France, that he, Tommy, and Freddie had enlisted. He was so proud of himself that you couldn't possibly be upset. Not when he asked you to wait for him. That was the first time in years he had ever seemed serious about what you and he shared.

"I was thinking, perhaps, you would wait for me." Danny requested. The confidence of the boy had been quieted by the reality of the man. He knew that war was dangerous and there was talk that not everyone may return but if he should return he knew that all he wanted was you waiting for him.

"Of course Danny," you answered, "Of course I'll wait for you."

And you did. You waited for three years of a war for Danny to come walking back through the door of your father's shop. The war in France progressed as did life in Small Heath. Almost as soon as you saw Danny off you learned that you were pregnant. Your father fell ill that winter and passed away before your son, who you named Daniel, was born. You inherited the shop and kept sewing razors into peaked caps even in the absence of the Shelby boys.

You raised your son for nearly three years alone, telling him stories at night about his father. You painted a picture of a man full of confidence and bravery, a man who no longer existed. That became clear when you saw him step off the train with Tommy and Freddie. All three came back changed from the war, the boyish charm they'd all possessed had been stolen from them. But Danny suffered the worst fate, his head was changed by the carnage and the fighting.

Still, when he stepped off the train, he greeted you the way you knew he would. Sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you round, placing kisses eagerly to your face and neck. You were engulfed in a hug from Freddie and received a handshake from Tommy, all three alive and mostly well. Danny cried when he saw his son and carried the boy on his shoulders all the way home.

"Is he asleep?" You asked, looking to where Danny was in the doorway. He'd spent the whole evening with Daniel and insisted on seeing him off to bed.

"He's all tucked in." Danny replied. He glanced behind him, toward his son's room, and then back to you. The war had been terrible, Danny could hardly believe that he was home now, with you sitting in bed waiting for him and his son asleep in the next room.

You waved your hands at him, beckoning him to come in to see you. "I can't believe you're here," you whispered as you hugged him.

"I missed you every day." He replied, sitting beside you on the bed. You leaned against him, holding him close to you. It felt like he was going to disappear at any moment. That you would wake up and he would be back in France.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come home to me but you're here." You held his face in your hands and kissed him.

He was home, but his mind was elsewhere. At first it seemed to just be night terrors. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming. It took all night to sate him, you would sit in bed with him, holding him and whispering that everything would be okay. Sometimes he would cry from embarrassment, sometimes he was too far gone to notice.

He felt guilty knowing he put you through this. That he'd asked you to wait for him and then had come back half the man he was before. The outbursts became worse as time went on. Noises would set him off and send him into a rage. Around the house you tired to keep Daniel quiet, cautious of having him upset his father in some way. You knew when Danny through his fits you couldn't stop him. More than once he'd destroyed furniture.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized after one such event, the kitchen table broken and china shattered on the floor. You were on your hands and knees cleaning and you'd told him to go upstairs to lay down but he lingered in the doorway. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay Danny, you were just startled is all." You replied.

Danny couldn't work. He did odd jobs for Tommy but the war had robbed him of his ability to work enough to make a living. The shop was your only income and you worked endless hours to make enough money to provide. Between Daniel's terrible three's and Danny's outbursts it was as if you had two children. It was exhausting most every day but you wouldn't change it.

Looking back at Danny as you sat up on your knees you couldn't be angry about the kitchen. "I'm just glad to have you with me. I'd rather you than a couple plates any day."

"Let me help you clean up." Danny offered, already kneeling down to grab the other dustpan.

"That would be lovely."

Freddie stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the clothes hanging on the small line drying. A pair of Danny's trousers. It had hardly been an hour since the fight with Billy Kimber but he had come straight here to tell you. He had volunteered to take care of this while Tommy took care of business. Freddie always promised you that he would watch out for Danny and you had confided in him about the sickness that infected your husband's head.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

"It's no one's fault Freddie. He loved Tom, and he hated being stuck here in the house. It was hard for him, seeing you and Tom alright and seeing himself not so. I would like to think he's okay now. That he's somewhere that doesn’t hurt. Where he can be happy."

"He was happy everyday he was with you." Freddie replied.

"As was I."

On the day of the funeral Tommy came to collect you. He walked you up to the graveyard, a small headstone on the hill with Danny's name on it. After the small gathering Tommy took Daniel, letting you have a few moments alone. You rested a hand against the cold stone of the grave marker, cheeks and nose red from crying and the cold.

"I'll wait for you still Danny," you whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on the headstone.

Is this fluff that ends in tragedy?

#danny whiz-bang imagine #peaky blinders imagine #collecting stories imagine

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fate-ad2021 · 8 years ago

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10. “Research and Rescue”

Session 10, Jan 29, 2017

Word count: 4,710

In-Game Date: Saturday, June 12, 2021

In which the group uncovers more information and connections, and makes an unexpected rescue effort.

I. Weapons Forged

While their Masters rest, Caster and Assassin set to work. Caster returns to the original house that Reines loaned to the group, to his basement forge, to construct another fantastical weapon. The construction takes most of the night, but Servants have no need for sleep.

Assassin, for her part, remains at the safe house to stand guard and do her own work. She recalls Jim’s bravery in the battle against Berserker; he charged out onto the bridge side-by-side with her, heedless of his own limitations against a Servant and willing to do whatever it took to take down the dangerous enemy.

Bearing that in mind, she searches her reserves of knowledge and intuition and comes up with a possible solution: although mortals cannot ordinarily harm Servants, she wonders if she might be able to create something to allow her Master to have a more active hand in the battles ahead.

She considers her options and finally settles on one. Carefully, so as not to wake him from his sleep on the couch, she takes measurements of his hands. Then she sits down with the limitless supply of materials from her belt pouches and begins to craft. This task too takes her most of the night, but by dawn’s light, she is ready.

II. The Morning After

Despite her promise to let them sleep in, Reines texts both Jim and Val at around 9 in the morning. The text simply reads: Turn on your telly.

Careful not to wake Siobhan, Jim grabs the remote and turns on the local news.

A distressed-looking reporter stands in front of the remains of Ponte Principe Amedeo Savoia Aosta. The scene behind her is one of utter disaster: not only does the road bear the scorch marks that were there when they left, but huge chunks have been taken out of it and the light posts have been bent as though by the force of a great explosion. Body bags and chalk outlines can be seen in the background.

The reporter is speaking rapidly in Italian as multilingual subtitles whiz by: the scene was reported late last night and is thought to be the result of a terrorist attack. She steps aside to introduce a representative from the Vatican: a grey-haired mustachioed man in a purple dress shirt with a clerical collar. The reported introduces him as “Brother Orsino Veronesi”, although the first thing he does when given the microphone is to correct her: he has no title.

Veronesi speaks in soft, calm tones, explaining that the Vatican does indeed fear this to be a terrorist attack. He assures viewers that they have one suspect in custody and are investigating further culprits. The reporter asks if there is a connection to the fire at the Pantheon. Veronesi sadly confirms that the Vatican suspects such a connection to be present, and assures the reporter and the viewers that they are investigating that disaster as well.

Jim turns the volume down as the reporter returns to the top of her story for those just tuning in. Siobhan is awake now and staring at the screen with bleary eyes. Caster and Assassin, returning from their respective tasks, watch the rerun of the message in silent shock.

Leaning against the back of the couch, Val begins to think aloud, voicing what is bothering him about the priest. “This guy… He’s way too calm about all of this. Look at his face, his posture. Sure, he’s concerned, but if he were a normal priest, he’d be more expressive of it. He’d at least take the opportunity to talk up the religious angle of it. This guy, though – he’s too serene. There’s definitely something up with him.”

Finally, Jim speaks up: “We definitely didn’t leave it like that.”

“No,” Assassin agrees. “No, we did not.”

Val takes a deep breath, then declares, “I need coffee. Who wants coffee?”

Siobhan raises her hand, as Jim asks, “Do you think we should phone Reines?”

Assassin and Caster both nod. “Definitely.”

“Didn’t she say she was going to call in a favor from the Vatican about cover-up?” Siobhan asks.

“This isn’t a cover-up!” Jim exclaims. “This is escalation!”

“That is assuming it even was the Vatican,” Assassin points out. “But it could be that there was another battle after we left.”

Jim nods. “Better to call Reines and ask her about it.”

Reines picks up after the first ring. “I assume that’s the bridge where you fought Berserker last night.”

“We didn’t leave it like that,” Jim replies. “It was way more intact when we left. A few scorch marks, and yeah, there were some bodies, but that is an absolute disaster.”

“What’s up with that priest?” Val asks, returning from the kitchen. He hands Siobhan a cup of coffee and takes a seat across the table.

Reines hums. “To be honest, I am a little worried. After I got off the phone with you last night, I called up my contacts in the Vatican. Admittedly, it is a delicate situation. All parties knew that there would be a Grail War on soon, and all parties knew that all parties knew that, but it’s still a bit taboo to talk about openly. I imagine they had plans in place already to cover up the inevitable collateral damage, but…”

“You didn’t expect him to do it by making more damage.” Jim fills in.

“Precisely,” she confirms. “There’s nothing to be done for it now, though. If the Vatican says they have in hand, then the only thing we’d accomplish would be getting in their way.”

“So, what now?” Val asks.

Reines hums in thought, then says, “I’m still looking into the Sophia-Ri connection. Anything else you come up with about that would be welcome information. Most of the records I’ve thought to look for have been wiped or buried. If you can, investigate this Orsino gent. I’d love to know more about him, but I’ve got my hands full.”

“Sure!” Val exclaims. “Need anything else while I’m poking around the Vatican?”

In the thunder of yelling that follows Val’s remark, only one message is clear: neither he nor anyone else is to go to the Vatican. When things have calmed down, Reines reassures Val that she understands and appreciates his skills, but also warns him that the Holy City would be on high alert for the War. It is unlikely that he would get two steps before someone bears down on him with suspicion at best or murderous intent at worst.

Val agrees not to go, and says that instead he will stay and search the dark net to find anything he can about Orsino. Caster suggests that perhaps the Servants could go investigate the disaster sites, unseen but able to observe more closely while the Masters stay in to do some research. He volunteers to go to the bridge, and departs as soon as Val agrees.

Jim bids Reines goodbye, hangs up, and returns the phone to his pocket. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

“Wait.” Val looks around, concerned. “Where’s Lancer?”

A moment of panic seizes Jim and Val; after Lancer’s stunt last night, running off to confront Berserker on her own, they are both wary of her tendency to go charging off in search of danger.

Siobhan waves her hands to console them. “She’s alright, she’s alright. She’s on the roof, keeping a lookout.”

Val and Jim both let out sighs of relief. Jim looks to Assassin. “Could you go check on her?”

III. Rooftop Discussion

Assassin does indeed find Lancer on the roof, in her physical form but safely out of sight of the road, perched behind the chimney. She gives Assassin a small smile and wave as the other Servant appears at the other end of the roof. Assassin returns the wave and moves to sit near Lancer.

“How are you doing?” Assassin asks.

Lancer indicates her healing wounds. She is no longer in danger of losing her intestines, but she is still clearly in a weakened state after the battle. “I’ll be alright. I might heal faster in spirit form, but…” She shrugs. “It’s uncomfortable, you know?”

Assassin nods amiably, encouraging her to go on. Lancer is silent for a time, staring into the middle distance. When she speaks again, her voice is soft.

“How old are you said to be? When was your legend?”

Assassin thinks for a moment, then replies, “Perhaps fifteen hundred years on, now.”

Lancer gives an acknowledging nod. When Assassin returns the question, she replies, “In truth, I do not know. I lost track of the time. But… I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

“Why do you say that?” Assassin asks softly.

Lancer takes a deep breath. “Because my impression is that one is supposed to be dead to be summoned into this sort of thing.”

Assassin manages, just barely, to hide her surprise as her thoughts shift to Caster and his tree. Sensing that Lancer may keep talking, she adopts an expression of concern and lays a hand on Lancer’s arm. The other woman smiles bitterly.

“I was supposed to last as long as my realm. And my realm… well, it was supposed to be forever. If I’m here, then what has become of it? Has it gone away? Does it stand empty?” She falls silent and shakes her head.

Assassin squeezes her arm gently and sits back. “I understand.” At Lancer’s questioning look, she explains, “Our realms are supposed to be separate from this place. I know that I passed away, but that was supposed to happen; if you are tied to your realm, as you say, then I cannot imagine the distress at realizing the… oddness of your current situation.”

Lancer nods somberly. The two women sit in silence for a time, each to their own thoughts. For her part, Assassin’s thoughts turn to the oddness of the War. From the sounds of it, both Lancer and Caster were summoned out of eternal realms and into the fight. She wonders too if Mordred was; she remains uncertain of their fate before her retreat to Avalon. She also considers the presence of Saber and Archer, who have been all but confirmed as two of Arthur’s knights, as well as the strong connection to Old Magic that seems to permeate the pool of Servants.

Something is strange about this entire situation, she decides, as she stands to return inside.

Before Assassin can depart, though, Lancer calls out, “Your Master is a good man, you know? Kind of a reckless idiot, but I like him.”

Assassin laughs at that. “He is: both a good man and a reckless idiot. I cannot believe that he intended to engage Berserker in that battle. But… I have created something that will perhaps make it easier for him to survive this War and do the good that he intends to do.”

Lancer raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“In my time,” Assassin goes on, “Jim would not have been made a knight, regardless of his skill or intentions. He is of low standing, regardless of his birth, and the knights would have reviled any attempts that he made at joining their ranks. Those men think strength and honor comes through the blood and the land inheritance, not through strength of spirit and honor of actions. But as you said, he is a good man. And if he wants to take on enemies like that, especially in pursuit of the protection of others, then he deserves a weapon that will allow him to.”

Lancer’s smile is bright. “I like that idea. I just hope never to have to fight him, after all the care you’re giving him.”

Assassin laughs in response. “And after your display last night, I suspect that he would not like to fight you, either.”

IV. Research

The group decides to follow Reines’s suggestion of sitting down for a day to do some research.

Val finds himself consumed with curiosity about the odd priest Veronesi, and sits down to dig through the Internet to see what more he can learn. Despite the flak that the group has given him about his impulsive behavior in the past few days, Val is one of Reines’s best information gophers: what good would he be if he could not dig up some dirt?

And he certainly does find some interesting dirt. In just the first half-hour of searching the hidden parts of the ‘net, he manages to find plenty of references to Orsino Veronesi’s position in the Holy Church. As it turns out, Veronesi has training as an “Executor” – the modern equivalent of Inquisitors. The Executors serve as the church’s secret black ops arm, quelling demon infestations and policing mages who have failed to police themselves. They have also serve as front-line soldiers in the times when the church has gone to war with the Clock Tower. Of course, all this information is kept under wraps much like the existence of any other sort of magic.

The most interesting part, however, is that Veronesi himself is said to be retired. Talk on the dark ‘net says that he retired some ten years back, and rumor suggests that it was not entirely a voluntary move. Val comes away from the search feeling enlightened but also puzzled: If Veronesi is retired, especially from a black ops division of any sort, then why is he acting as a television face of the Vatican now?

Still curious, Val picks up the phone and calls The Magnificent Magnuson – who prompts falls out of bed and onto his guitar. After his friend picks himself up, Val asks him to research “something about the Vatican”.

(“Why do you care about the Vatican?!” Magnuson grumps.

“Because I’m in Rome!” Val exclaims.)

After some debate, Magnuson agrees to talk to his connections in the Sea of Estray and see what they can rustle up about Veronesi.

While Val is doing all of that, Jim decides to call up Granny Gertrude.

“Good morning, Jimmy dear!”

“Hi, Granny! I was wondering if you could look some things up for me.”

“Is this about that Holy Grail thing, dear? I hope you’re staying safe…”

Jim nods, still not accustomed to the phone. “Yeah, it is, and… I am. We’re having some trouble nailing down information about this one person, and I wondered if you could help us look some things up.”

She makes a thoughtful noise. “I can try, dear. I’m afraid all my contacts may have run dry, but give me the name and I’ll see what I can do.”

“The guy’s name is Vasilyevich, first name possibly Grigori. Anything that you can come up with would be really welcome information.”

“Grigori Vasilyevich, hm? It doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ll call around and see what I can find.”

“Thank you, Granny!”

“You stay safe out there, you hear me?” Granny demands. “And let me know when you’re coming back. I’ll have fresh-baked cookies for you.”

Jim laughs. “Thanks again, Granny. I wouldn’t miss them for the world.”

V. Recon at the Bridge

While the Masters are doing their research, Caster decides to take a more hands-on approach. After informing his Master, he slips into invisibility and heads out to go investigate the site of their last battle.

Ponte PASA is crawling with police, special investigators, and news report crews. The picture on the television had been accurate to life: huge chunks of the road are gouged out, lampposts are bent and warped. It looks like damage from an explosion.

Gliding past and through the various crews, he finds what would be the center of the explosion: directly in front of the pileup, at the spot where his Visigoth army had manifested. He turns a slow circle, noting all the details: the bent posts, the gouges, the scorch marks. Caster reaches out with his magical senses and finds residual energy overlaying the place. It tastes like fire, but lacks the death-sense that the seal explosions have carried.

Everything strikes him as unusually deliberate: the posts are bent just so, the chunks of concrete are artfully arranged, the burns are perfectly placed. He wagers that mundane investigators would not notice the differences, especially as they are being fed the story of a terrorist attack, but he suspects that the damage was a result of deliberate design rather than the chaos of a genuine explosion.

He searches the crowd to find the priest: Orsino Veronesi is perhaps 5’4”, shorter than he appeared on television, and surrounded by a gaggle of reporters. He is well-dressed, perhaps a little warmly for the weather in a nice dress shirt and sleek gloves. The investigators and reporters are speculating about the connection between the Pantheon and the bridge, on account of the fire and the “boom”. Veronesi, for his part, is quite skilled at providing calm and reasonable non-answers.

After a time, he steps away from the group, feigning a cell phone call, then politely takes his leave. Caster follows him down the street and around a few corners to his car – even Caster can tell that the vehicle is ancient – and on down the road until they reach the Vatican. The Servant can sense the power of the holy land’s boundary field even from a distance, so decides to stay a wise distance from it. He watches Veronesi’s car get held up at the gate while the guard looks some things up; Caster leaves when Veronesi is allowed to drive in.

VI. Unofficial Knighting

Jim is waiting to hear back from Granny when Assassin finds him, her hands behind her back and a sly smile on her face.

“Jim,” she catches his attention. “I have something for you.”

He tilts his head as she approaches, turning down the sound on the television. “What is it?”

From behind her back, Assassin pulls out a pair of gloves. They are sturdy things made of reinforced leather and studded with steel. He gapes as she hands them over.

“What…?”

Assassin smiles and perches on the arm of the couch. “When you went up to the bridge last night, I was equal parts impressed and horrified. You did not stand a chance going toe-to-toe with Berserker – with any Servant, but particularly not with that one. And yet, you persisted. You went anyway. You were willing to fight.”

Jim nods, not sure where this is going.

“In my time, someone of your standing would never be knighted. The chivalry of the realm required knights to have a certain status. Regardless of their birth, a child of the street could never rise beyond being a lowly page, not even a squire.” Jim frowns, but Assassin continues, “But that is not how it should be. Strength of heart and body make nobility, not just birth. You have a noble heart. You have the will and the reason. With a heart like yours, you’re worth any two of Arthur’s knights. You only lack the means, and I am proud to gift you with an enchanted item like Avalon used to give heroes.”

Jim stares at the gloves, runs his fingers over the studs and the symbols etched into the leather. “What are they?”

“Spirit-touched,” she replies. “Ordinarily, mortals cannot compete with the likes of Servants. These gloves, infused with my magic, should serve as a leveling force, to bring you onto even footing with our foes.” As his eyes widen, she adds, “Traditionally a knight would have a weapon like a sword or a spear, but… this seemed more your style.”

Jim looks up at her with bright, excited eyes. “You’re telling me I can punch Servants now?”

“Yes, that is precisely what I am telling you,” Assassin replies, trying her best to keep a straight face.

Almost reverently, Jim slips the gloves on. He tests them out, alternately stretching his fingers and making fists, before motioning to their perfect fit. “How…?”

“I measured your hands while you slept,” Assassin quips, and finally does burst out laughing at his incredulous expression.

Looking on from the corner, Siobhan and Lancer stop holding in their own laughter. Jim turns bright red, but is too pleased with the gift to let it stop him from laughing as well. He takes a few experimental swings – safely away from his own Servant – and keeps on grinning even as she heads toward the door to conduct her investigations.

VII. Recon at the Pantheon

While Caster investigates the bridge, Assassin decides to take another look at the Pantheon. Before she leaves, Siobhan catches her and offers to sing a song of inspiration for her to help her focus. The bard looks as though she expects Assassin to refuse, but seems delighted when the Servant accepts. Assassin reassures her that she respects bardic traditions, and offers to compare disciplines at some time when things have calmed down. Siobhan cheerfully blesses her with a song of inspiring focus, and then Assassin is on her way.

Much like the bridge, the Pantheon is crawling with investigators. The first thing that Assassin looks for is any sign of investigators from the Church or the Mage’s Association. She finds them easily: they carry themselves differently from the mundane investigators, and they tend to stay away from each other.

She drills down, looking for any who are skimming over or directing mundane police away from certain areas. One man appears to be doing just that around the statue of Diana. Assassin drifts over to him and peers over his shoulder at his notepad. She is surprised to see a rough sketch of the remains of the death seal on the top page. Her hand itches for her dagger for just a moment before she realizes that he is more puzzled by it than interested in truly replicating it. Besides, someone else interesting has caught her eye:

Not quite hidden behind the statue is a mousy little researcher: male, dark skin, short and curly brown hair, glasses. He is obviously trying to be inconspicuous – with the keywords being obviously and trying. By the look of concentration on his face, Assassin suspects that he may be trying to sketch out the seal himself. The official investigator appears to be aware of the other man’s presence, but also seems to be tolerantly ignoring him.

Assassin drifts up to the researcher to study him more closely, and finds something infinitely more odd than she expected: what looks like the scar of a Command Seal, cut neatly down the middle. Judging by its pattern, it could be perfectly mirrored to make a whole one.

“Jim,” she asks her Master. When she has gotten his attention, she sends him a mental snapshot of the researcher. “Do you know this man?”

She feels Jim’s alarm through their connection. “Yeah,” he replies. “That’s Jordan – one of the other guys Reines was going to hire, and the guy who Val saw in the candy shop yesterday with Berserker.”

Assassin sends along the mental image of the half-Seal. Jim is puzzled, and promises to ask Reines about it.

(Siobhan expresses surprise when she hears about it, but both she and Jim come to the same question: is it possible for two Masters to share a Servant? Siobhan steps away to call her contacts and see if they have an answer. Jim calls Reines, who says that she would guess it to be possible, that it has precedent, and that she would keep it in mind with the rest of her research.)

By this time, the official investigator has made his way over to Jordan. He politely rousts the researcher from his spot behind the statue, and Jordan sheepishly makes his way out. Assassin takes one more look at the building, then decides that her priority ought to be figuring out where Jordan is going. She takes off after him.

VIII. Rescue in Ostiense

Assassin follows Jordan as he catches a bus back to an apartment complex in Ostiense, in the south of Rome. The apartment complex is rather sparsely populated, with only one in every few apartments being occupied. Assassin thinks it best to flush everyone out and isolate Jordan when he leaves his unit.

She waits until Jordan gets inside, then enters out of the empty apartments nearby. She finds the nearest smoke detector, and pulls some dried leaves out of her pouch. Whispering a few words, she channels the impression of heat into the leaves. They catch fire easily, and she holds them up to the smoke detector.

Caster has gone to investigate the apartments that he had tracked Berserker and Petri to the day before. Unbeknownst to both Caster and Assassin, they have ended up at the same location. Caster is mildly surprised when the fire alarm begins to blare and people begin pouring out of the apartment complex. He is even more surprised when no one emerges from Petri’s apartment. Curious, he tests the boundary field around it – it is stronger than he might expect, but it does not appear designed to keep Servants out. He takes advantage of this, and glides inside.

A tense scene greets him. Petri stands with another man in the middle of the living room, facing a tall cloaked figure that blocks the front door. Petri is looking around frantically, searching for another way out while the other man is trying to explain that they did everything they could. As he speaks, another cloaked figure emerges from the kitchen, and two more materialize to block the entrance to the hallway.

Caster passes the image on to Val, who informs Jim, who bids Assassin to go in but to stay quiet for now. Assassin locates the apartment and enters in the hallway behind the two cloaked figures, just in time to see the latest development:

From between the two standing in the hallway, another tall figure emerges. She is bright, made of light and energy, and gives both Servants the impression of a tree. They recognize her almost immediately, to their horror: she is Fae, old and powerful.

Jordan’s stammering comes to a halt at the appearance of the Faery. She smiles, bright but cold. “He knows it was not your fault. You have still failed.”

“But—” “I was in over my head from the start.” “We weren’t sufficiently informed!”

The woman holds up her hand and both stop talking. “I. Don’t. Care.” She speaks calmly. deliberately. “Emil gave you the tool, and you failed to use it. He has no further use for you.”

She steps back, and shatters into shards of light that fade just as quickly as she appeared.

The two constructs in the hallway get exactly one step toward their prey… before Assassin melts out of invisibility, slamming her daggers into their chests. They jolt in surprise, and collapse to the floor, their cloaks melting away.

Seeing that his ally is present, Caster materializes, still in the guise of the man with the ridiculous feathered hat, and jabs his sword into the back of the cloaked thing blocking the door. The construct near the kitchen take a swing at Petri with a sword, but the man dodges surprisingly quickly. Apparently able to gather his wits about him, Petri stretches out a hand toward the cloaked figure and snaps his fingers. The construct is immediately engulfed in flames, leaving the room clear.

Jordan turns toward the two Servants, wide eyed. “It is safe to assume that you’re not with them?” He asks, surprisingly calm.

“That is a safe assumption,” Caster replies.

Jordan nods. “Good. That’s good.” And promptly faints dead away, collapsing onto the floor.

Caster and Assassin exchange a glance and a shrug before Caster knocks Petri over the head. He slings the man over his shoulder, bidding Assassin to pick up Jordan and casting invisibility over all of them.

“Hey Val,” Caster calls. “We’re bringing two unconscious idiots back to the safe house.”

(“What?!”)

“They’re not with their employer anymore,” Caster replies with a wry smile. “It wasn’t a mutual breakup.”

As they leave the apartment, fire alarm still blaring, they hope that they will be able to get useful information out of the two captives…

#session log post

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